


Vampire the Masquerade: Nirvana

by Fiona_Singer



Category: Vampire: The Masquerade, Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game), World of Darkness (Games)
Genre: Gen, Major Original Character(s), Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Original Fiction, POV Original Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2020-07-27 02:47:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 29
Words: 50,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20038651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fiona_Singer/pseuds/Fiona_Singer
Summary: *A rewrite based on the White Wolf video game Vampire: the Masquerade Bloodline, but with many adaptations (including original characters and settings) and is intended for readers who don't know the series, be advised to treat it as a brand new, independent work instead of Fan Fiction.Chasing after a shadow from her past, Leona entered the world of the mystical blood-thirsty undead, but the awaiting danger is far greater than she could ever imagine: the grand game of politics, the battling sides of humanity and beast in their nature, and the brutal Jyhad in the modern nights...Lost and afraid in this chaos, she has to continue on this path--because there is no going back.*Violent and Sexual Contents.The story will also be available on RoyalRoad.com and WebNovel.com.





	1. Christmas Eve

It was not the first visit Leona paid to Dr. Garrett Johnson's office, yet she still amazed at the stately interior design: oil paintings hanged on Victorian wooden wall, book shelves reaching high up to the ceiling, and the delicate embroidery of the carpet under the cozy armchairs by the fireplace. Might seem odd and uncomfortable to others, this room, but it gave Leona a quiet sense of peace and safety: it was stagnant, like a fossil preserved in amber, while the outside world is constantly changing—a lonely island, an otherworldly space, so whatever she said can be left here and will not be uncovered and judged by the anyone outside the door.

"Merry Christmas, Leona."

Garrett was expecting her. He poured out a glass of wine and put it on the coffee table near Leona's seat, greeting with a subtle London accent. As he put it, drinking a small amount of wine is "very conventional for evening sessions".

"Merry Christmas, Garrett."

Leona suspected it's crossing boundaries to be on a first-name basis with her psychiatrist, but Garrett insisted, and he never took notes in front of her. She had a feeling that he's trying to turn these therapies into simple conversations as much as possible, by sparing these…formalities.

"How's your day?"

Leaning herself onto the back of the chair, Leona seemed unusually tired, considering her answer to the question: "Nothing special, really…cleaned up the house, finished the laundry, and did some research for work."

The doctor smiled at her response: "Not too many people spend time on work voluntarily on Christmas eve."

"Not too many psychiatrists have evening sessions on Christmas eve either, Garrett." And she smiled back.

Leona was very sharp and proactive for a patient, but they both know these were just friendly jokes. "Suppose we are both the career type, then." and Garret asked, "Alice invited you to her family dinner tonight, didn't she? So…you refused?"

"Yeah." Leona's smile went a little bitter, "She's a great friend and her intention's genuine, I know, it's just…it seems like something for somebody else. And even if I were there, I will just be a bystander, like I'm watching them from a movie screen, knowing that kind of ordinary happiness will never be a part of my life…Believe me, I've been there several times. Besides, Christmas for you westerners is a family occasion, right? Me at the table is simply…redundant and intruding."

With these pessimistic words, however, her tone was calm and steady, like she was telling a story of a stranger, but beneath that undisturbed surface, there was a sadness so deep and vast that the air felt heavier with its presence, which just looked so wrong in the eyes of a young woman in her early twenties. Garrett sighed, tried to find the right words for such a topic: "I understand. It's the day to celebrate with family for everyone else…but for you, it's the day you mourned your family—the only family you ever had."

Leona didn't answer. She took a breath, long and deep, turned her eyes towards the fireplace, watching those mesmerizing, warm flames changing shapes quietly. The orange halo of the fire casted a dancing contrast of light and shadow on her silhouette, making her a statue sprinkled with gold powder.

"Do you want to…talk about his death? Or just him?" Garrett raised the question tentatively, while observing her reaction. He had tried to move to this subject a few times, and had always been met with rejection.

At the same time, Leona began to slightly regret even telling Garrett anything. She talked to no one about this. Usually she's very open about all the crap that happened in her life, instead of hiding and whining or putting up a I-hate-the-world face, because she never wanted to think of herself as a victim, and if she had to tell the story…then at least, it helped numb the pain.

But no. Not the pain of losing him. She won't forget every inch of it.

Yet when Leona decided to bury the secret and looked firmly right into Garrett's eyes, she hesitated. She doesn't know what kind of strange charm this Dr. Johnson possessed, but his smile, his gesture, all just suddenly looked so…convincing and trustworthy—even more than usual.

"Do you think it's what he wanted for you, Leona, if he really cared about you?" Garrett reached out and touched the back of her hand gently, further softening his voice, "Being so painful because of him, never letting him go?"

Leona never noticed before, but now at a closer distance, she could see a weird, hypnotizing glow of his emerald eyes, drowning her conscious like water, and slowly…his words started to sound like the voice of her own mind.

"I suppose you are right, doctor." Leona gave in eventually, while a satisfied, even victorious smirk flashed on Garrett's face: "You said he's family…so are you related?"

"No, he just…took me in after my parents died. We spent two years together before…before he died and I went to orphanage." Though even at this state, Leona seemed very careful about the words she said, resisting his influence, and the doctor just kept pushing by bowing down lower and getting closer, staring at her with a hound-like look, with his voice tender still : "What was it like…living with him?"

A rush of nostalgia climbed on the gentle but impenetrable defense Leona built up on those memories, putting a beam of childish innocence on her cheeks: "Most of the time we were…drifters, moving from state to state, sometimes Europe. It wasn't easy for me at all, for a 14-year-old to adopt his way of life…you have to be smart, vigilant and prepared all the time, prepared to run…and lie. But it's not that bleak as it sounds, he tried to make it like traveling, and it's the first time in my life I felt…meaningful.

"My real families…were just a couple of strangers who were always too busy cleaning up and quarreling about their own mess. No one cared about me, and I didn't even care about myself: I was wearing ragged clothes, stinking like a wild animal and being joked about at school, nothing you would picture about a girl of middle-class, affluent background, and it just didn't bother me at all…until he taught me everything, like brother and father, everything that is…beautiful and worth loving in this world…"

Leona stopped all of a sudden, holding down the quaver in her voice, and said, like a judge declaring the sentence to the court:

"And God just took him away."

The two both lost the words at this moment. There's no sound but the cracking of burning firewood left in the room.

"How did he die?" Garrett asked, breaking this silence.

After a deep breath upon the question, Leona took a sip of the wine, answered in a wry smile and a weak voice, as if bringing up these memories had drained out her energy: "If it was just an accident, or a disease, I wouldn't hate God so much for ending his life…But he just loves drama, doesn't he? He just had to get someone murder him, making him die protecting me."

Saying this, she finished the drink at once, with a mild contempt on her face—both for God and herself, probably.

"Indeed. God is beyond measure in wanton malice, and matchless in his irony." Agreeing with her in a trifling delight, Garrett suddenly changed the subject in a strange direction, "If, Leona, if God finally found mercy in his heart and brought this man back to life, will you be willing to give up the life you have right now as a price?"

"Yes."

Leona answered without any hesitation, which surprised her doctor a little.

"Are you certain?" Garrett harbored some doubts in her determination, "You have a business degree from University of Chicago, a promising career in one of the world's best consulting firms, and even though you find it hard to open your heart completely to them, you do have friends that care about you. Don't you think…the price is too high?"

Going through all the things she had achieved so far, one by one, as Garrett listing them in front of her, Leona wasn't as sure as before, and immediately she felt ashamed of herself for this hesitation.

She didn't know.

Sensing the struggle of her mind, Garrett just suddenly sat up straight and let go of this eerie interrogation of his, ended the conversation in a friendly and professional manner: "I think we will leave it here today, it is a wonderful progress we've made. Have a nice evening, Leona."

Like waking up from a long dream, Leona stood up and shivered, face pale like this man sitting right in front of her is a ghost. She had no idea how he…talked her into telling him about all this, and this astonishment just compelled her to grab the bag and rush out of the door, escape from this scary psychiatrist as fast as possible, but even as she got into the car and drove away, Garrett's question was still in her head, leaving her thinking over and over about this ridiculous choice.

"This is pointless." Leona laughed at herself, because she knew there was no such thing as coming back from the dead.

The next thing she knew was a homeless covered in blood dashing across the road right in front of her car, almost got himself hit, left a fresh, throbbing bloody handprint on the hood. She got off the car, but the homeless guy was in such a panic that he just took off without any reaction to her call-outs.

"What the…"

It was late at night and it's not really the safest neighborhood in Chicago, so Leona didn't intend to stay here alone for any longer—that bloodstain on her car was unnerving enough. But when she turned around to get inside the vehicle and call the police, a firm fist hit her on the back of her head, cold and efficient, immediately knocking her down.

Damn it…Is it a robber? She held on to her car for balance, but the ache was almost blacking her out. When she struggled to open the door, however, she realized one very weird thing: the attacker didn't do anything to stop her—he could have threatened her, dragged her, beaten her, but she didn't hear, see or feel anything after the hit.

Why? Is he gone? Regaining her balance, Leona stood up and glanced back, hoping that she was already safe, but she couldn't believe what she saw.

"Zack…Is that…you?" Her lips were shaking as she spoke his name.

It was the exact same face from seven years ago, like he hadn't aged for one bit—eyebrows shaped like the edge of katana, the mole under the right eye, and that forceful nose bridge so rarely seen among Asians, as if someone made a copy of him from her memory…but paler, in black, and marked with striking flesh wounds, making it impossible to say the blood dropping from his face belongs to whom.

And his eyes…were unnaturally, radiantly red.

He froze right in front of her, clearly as shocked as she was, until the gunshots and screaming from the dark alley behind pulled him back to reality. Before Leona could even realize, the red-eye man disappeared in a blink, leaving her alone under the lamplight.

The rain started to fall, and she collasped, sitting by the car with a blank look, like a soulless body-joint doll.


	2. Bare Thy Teeth

"How's your 'evening session' with Dr. Sexy?"

That's the first thing Alice asked on the first day back in office. Lunch break is always the perfect time for gossiping, and she was eager to squeeze some juice out of Leona, who was known as a workaholic with the most boring "private life", even with the salad and smoothie she bought for her as a bribe to smooth her way in.

But Leona didn't seem that interested in her psychiatrist like her friend assumed: "It's just an evening session."

"Come on, don't bullshit me, no one just 'had evening session' with psychiatrists on Christmas eve." Alice blinked her foxy, blue eyes as she was saying, "No special treatment?"

"No special treatment."

"…Not even dinner?"

"Nope." Sucking the smoothie from a straw, Leona replied with her iconic nothing-happened smile.

Couldn't hide her disappointment, Alice sighed and started sticking her beef lasagna with fork in boredom: "Hmm, thought Dr. Johnson had a chance…I mean, I thought you are into the deep, knowledgeable scholar type since all these Harvard Business boys in the company are too 'shallow' for you, but you are just unbreakable, aren't you? Well…now that you don't want to break the 'clinical boundaries' with your doctor, would you mind me giving a shot?"

Unbreakable? Leona found her comment funny and laughed, but the thought of that strange doctor and that night dampened her moods, so she put on a more serious expression and gave the advice: "Best not, Alice, you won't want to have a relationship with someone who can diagnose your personality defects by a simple look."

The saying was certainly exaggeration, but it did spook Alice successfully: "Alright, point taken."

"How's your sister, by the way?" And Leona took the chance to change the subject quickly, "Is she fully recovered?"

For the next ten minutes Alice went on talking about how well her big sister looked for a mother who just gave birth and what a lovely angel her baby niece was, showing Leona dozens of photos and video clips, and she watched and grinned with that little bitter sweetness inside, as she looked at this pink, soft new life cuddled in white blanket, images of that ghostly Zack showered in blood kept coming back and haunted her. She couldn't stop thinking about how…painful and battered he looked.

It's just illusions, right? She was hit by a thug in the head, it was the day Zack died, she was just hallucinating about how she pictured him dying, it was all because of the guilt and sadness she had for him…That's all, an explanation that totally makes sense psychologically.

She convinced herself so and searched the café for something that could distract her, and there she saw a group of graduate interns, gathering around with laptops in front of them, debating about something on a business case.

"Just like you and me a year ago, huh?" Looking at the same direction, Alice had a sigh, "lowest level of the pyramid, good old times…"

"Alice."

"What?"

"If you can bring your grandmother back, but in exchange, you have to give up everything you have earned in your life, will you do it?"

There was no response coming from Alice, for she was staring at Leona, completely startled and confused. Realizing how blunt it must be to ask something like this out of the blue, Leona waved her hand and laughed it away: "Sorry, stupid question."

But this question seemed more than just a hypothesis to her now, for reasons she couldn't explain. It coiled around her chest throughout the entire week, and the more she thought about it, the more she felt all this…just didn't add up: her psychiatrist brought up the subject of a dead person in her life, and right away she saw that person "coming back to life"? No, her problem was having trust issues, not delusions. Garrett definitely knew something.

Finally, it came to the time for her weekly session, and again it was in the evening. With so many suspicions in mind, Leona walked right into Garrett's office and skipped the greeting: "I saw him."

And not surprisingly, Garrett didn't seem so surprised. He sat down, patiently and carefully heard her out about everything happened at that night, pondered with one hand under his chin for quite a while, and then asked: "How did you feel, seeing him again like that?"

Leona couldn't believe he just played out the psychiatrist script like that: "How did I feel? Hmm…I feel doubtful about many things, like was he real or was it just in my head, for starters."

"Do you think it's real?"

Looking into his eyes, Leona paused and gave her answer: "Yes."

"Then you don't need to doubt your ability to differentiate illusions from reality, Leona," And so Garrett gave his diagnosis, "You are a completely sane and rational individual."

Sounds very reassuring, his comment, but it was what he was implying that astonished Leona.

"So…that's him."

"That's him."

Leona's lips twitched a little, like she was trying to give a smile on a bad joke, then she scoffed, overthrowing her own former opinion: "That's just not possible…"

"Why is it not possible?"

Merely within a second, Garret moved from the armchair to the side of the window, admired the glamour of metropolitan night view while keeping questioning her: "the scope of human cognition is trivial compared to the unknown, so why rush your judgement?"

And Leona was stunned by what he did just now, unable to debate about agnostics: "How did you... do that?"

"Didn't you wonder how Zack just vanished?" When explaining, Garrett showed her again, shifting his positions around room at a speed that almost made it look like teleportation, then stopped right in front of her, "This is how he did it. We are the same."

"…And what are you?" Leona asked, finding herself couldn't do anything but breathed tremulously under his condescending gaze.

Garrett bent over, with his hands holding the arms of her chair, speaking in a frighteningly playful and teasing voice, like cats toying with their preys: "You said you enjoyed Anne Rice, didn't you? Then congratulations, vampires are real."

He smiled, and Leona saw two sharp, conical fangs hidden under his upper lip.

The unbearable fear finally thrusted Leona to the breaking point. Out of sheer survival instinct, she pushed him away and sprinted out, droved like she was a wanted refuge, while kept wiping all the cold sweat on her forehead. Some part of her still found the notion of vampires truly exist preposterous, but as she connected the dots, it actually started to make sense: evening session hours, sun-blocking curtains, pale skin and glowing eyes, and she's never seen another patient of his…and she didn't note all these worrying details because she was under some charming spell of his.

How else could she explain all this? That he's a crazy, creepy LARP fan who has a bad sense of humor and is really good at what he does?

"This is nuts…"

Leona gritted in frustration, turned off the car engine and got out. The familiar smile of the security guard at the lobby of her apartment calmed her down a little, reminding her that she was not living in a horror movie—In worst scenario, she would call the police and let them handle…whatever it was.

So when stepping out of the elevator, she was finally back to the normal, home-coming Leona: grabbed the key, opened the door, took off heels, and ready to greet Alice in a cheerful state: "I'm home!"

"Dinner's ready, it's riso al forno," As she was saying, Alice walked out of the kitchen in Peppa Pig pajamas, "I'm feeling Italian tonight, yay…" But then she stopped all her funny dancing moves, looking at Leona in surprise, "Leo, you didn't tell me you have guest! Now I'm severely underdressed."

"What? I don't…"

Just when Leona was wondering what she was talking about, a gentle voice came from behind suddenly spoke, in a polite and yet natural manner: "Sorry about dropping by without noticing, Leona probably just forgot."

It was Garrett.

Feeling like her heart missed one beat, Leona totally lost her words, watching this well-dressed British gentleman who popped out of nowhere approaching Alice with a harmless smile, while the latter had no idea what was going on, just stood there, dazzled by his magical halo.

"I don't believe we've actually met, I'm Dr. Garrett Johnson," He reached out his hand, "Nice to put a name on a face."

And Alice grabbed his hand and shook: "Hi, Alice Turner…"

Then she blacked out and fell on the carpet.

"What did you do!?" Leona screamed, both angrily and helplessly, keeping Alice behind her, but Garrett just got past her easily, carried Alice up in his arms and asked: "Where's her bedroom? Don't worry, I didn't hurt her, she's sound asleep, I just want to talk to you in private."

Leona knew he must have planned more than to talk, but after witnessing what he could do, she didn't really know how to fight back or escape, so she pointed him the direction after a long hesitation, and Garrett did just put Alice in bed like he promised—and again, in a flash. Feeling slightly safer, Leona cleaned up the mess in her head and walked towards the kitchen, taking out a one-person portion of the baked rice Alice made.

Alright then. If he just wants to talk, then let's talk. Leona thought. It's not like he gave her an option. "Take a seat." She set the table, put down the plate, sat and asked, "If you don't mind?"

"Of course, I don't want to interrupt your dinner." Garrett extended a "please" gesture, "I've already had mine."

The last sentence raised a small upset in her stomach. "So…how old are you, factually?" She put up a cool-headed smile—or at least she tried—then started the meal and the conversation.


	3. Last Sunrise

Garrett didn't respond to Leona's question, just looked at her with an almost childish curiosity, as if she's a rare exhibition in a museum. "Something on my face?" Feeling a little uncomfortable to eat while being stared at like this, Leona put down the cutlery and asked.

"No. Just surprised at your composure, it is…very unusual. Where does it come from, I wonder, what kind of experience…cultivated it?" He narrowed his eyes, observing her expressions when he came up with the question, "Was it Zack? You two didn't just…'drift' around country, did you?"

"No, we didn't, but I cannot go into the details, so stop poking, and don't force me to tell you with…whatever the magic you used on me."

"For what reason?"

"Safety."

Leona used the strongest tone she only uses in tough business negotiations. Despite her casual dressing, that attitude of dogmatism nearly made her a generalissima—Unbreakable, as Alice put it.

"Very well, I won't from now on." And Garrett showed respect for that, "Back to your question then: I was born in London in 1688, the year of Glorious Revolution, so that makes me…330 years old, factually. Turned by an Italian scholar when I was teaching in University of Bologna at the age of 30, I've been a vampire ever since…or Kindred, that's what we call each other. Most of the time I travelled with my Sire—the Kindred who made me—and continued my pursue of knowledge, visited historical sites that no human could enter and retrieved lost records of history—our side of history…I'm a bookworm, what can I say?"

As he was telling Leona about all this, those jade-green eyes behind his glasses seemed extremely old and experienced for a moment, like an ancient monster lurking under the lake finally rose up, allowing the tourist to take a peek at his true form, terrifying…and also fascinating.

"Do all vampires live like this, archaeologist and…adventurer?" Unable to picture a life like that to be real, Leona suspired in amazement, "It actually sounds…very romantic, like in the fictions."

Upon the word "fiction", Garrett grinned and explained: "It is merely my choice of lifestyle, and having the right to choose a life like mine is a luxury for most. We are a massive and complex species, Leona, not as huge and dominant as yours, but we have an intricate society with our own political and economic systems, and it's even more brutal and dangerous." But the smile disappeared as he dug deeper into the subject, "Most Kindred are just trying to survive…and despite our immortality, the majority of us won't even make it to 100 years old."

These words struck in Leona's heart like daggers, as she remembered all those signs of battle and violence at the night she saw Zack.

"Is it the same for him, too?" She couldn't help asking, feeling a shudder in her spine.

Seeing her fear, Garrett deliberated in hesitation, but after a few thoughts, he decided to tell her anyway: "It is actually worse…if you are worrying what I think you are. You said Zack had radiant, red eyes, yes? That's something only a group of vampires called 'the Sabbats' had, and what they did…" He sighed, "To put it simple, they are the terrorists among us, Fundamentalists going extreme. Most of the young Sabbat foot soldiers are turned unwillingly or unconsciously, and it's highly possible that they don't even know what they've become…"

Leona listened quietly when her head was hanging down, little by little, with sounds of teeth grinding coming out of her closed mouth sometimes.

"Because there's no learning or any training program of sorts, they will be sent to fight and die immediately. And unlike us, they don't have a…'food supply chain'. I don't want to put myself on a moral high ground—we are all beasts, one way or another, but their bloodlines just made them even more…savage, so when they feed…they kill."

Garrett stopped there and leaned forward, put his hand on Leona's tight, trembling fist. His fingers were at room temperature, but that coldness seemed to help her calm down a little bit, as she was losing her grip.

"If Zack's appearance is close to what you remember of him, than he must have become a Sabbat and survived for some years…" He tried to comfort her, "Maybe he's earned something and climbed higher…"

"Enough."

Leona said, one word, light but firm. She stood up, put the dish back into the kitchen—she had lost the appetite anyway. Leaning back on the cupboard, she brooded in silence, and Garrett waited. For quite a while, there were only breathing and clock-ticking in the entire room.

"Can you make me a vampire?" Then, Leona spoke the result of her contemplation.

Raising his eyebrows, Garrett found her question and motive intriguing. He thought for a minute, and asked: "Why?"

She laughed in self-mockery, big and loud, looked not worrying if it would wake her roommate up at all. Turning her back against Garrett, she held her body with two hands on the cabinet, took a long and deep breath to push down the laughter from her throat, and said:

"You know, after his death…I tried to find something to explain it, to justify why after all the sufferings he's been through, God still wouldn't allow anything good in his life. I didn't even believe in God or any…spiritual existence before, but then I have to, because if it weren't for the cruel, mischievous will of some higher being, all this is just…utterly meaningless, and I couldn't accept his life being meaningless. So I became a believer, intimately, and said to myself that since the world is just a burlesque for God's amusement, then death is…extrication, and I can move on with this relief, this…motivation, to live with his life on my shoulder. And every time I made a step forward, I feel consolations from the notion of he's watching it from above somewhere, and he's at peace…"

Leona paused, turned back, with tears in her eyes: "For seven years that's how I got on with my life without him, not knowing this is just one big lie...until now."

She closed her eyelids, breathed deep and shakingly again and again, stubbornly making sure that these were the last drops of weakness her lacrimal gland would produce. Seemingly couldn't bear the sight, Garrett approached, wiped away those trails of tears and whispered: "There's nothing wrong at all with trying to live a good life and protect it…and that would also be what he wanted for you."

"But I won't forgive myself, no matter how…reasonable and healthy it is in the views of others, and that guilt will sour whatever I have...forever." Leona looked up to him, smiled bitterly, "And besides, I never really enjoyed this…normal life, did I? Even when my best friend invited me to Christmas dinner I wouldn't go, because deep down…I knew I'll never belong."

So she gathered herself up, asked again: "So…can you do it?"

"If that's what you wish, then yes." And Garrett was convinced, "But we will need some preparations."

Over the following weekend, Leona went to Garrett's office as they agreed, to learn the basic knowledge about the creatures she was going to become, and what she told Alice was she went on dates with her psychiatrist, so her carefree friend didn't suspect anything—even showed great support. Maybe because she knew that soon she would leave this life, or maybe it's just guilt for lying to everyone, she intentionally spent more time with people around her: caught up and chatted about celebrities news with Alice, spent hours sitting on the park bench watching neighbors training their dogs, even went clubbing with the girls she worked with. It was her first experience of genuine night life, really. 

"Dr. Sexy made her go soft", that's what Alice made of her recent changes, and every time Leona heard her saying this, she felt like almost wanting to regret her choice.

Still, they are just "almosts".

It was not all that gloomy, however—there's excitement in opening eyes to a whole new world you've never known, and it's very interesting to compare what vampires actually are with the legends about them: they do not fear cross, garlic silver and running water, even a stake to the heart will just paralyze them, but sunlight is indeed deadly, and fire can leave wounds that they cannot heal at their supernatural speed.

Amongst the thing Leona learned from Garrett in this limited time, the important one for her, is about an act they call "Embrace", a special ritual that can transform human into vampires—because apparently, people don't get turned just by getting bitten, and it is the only way for them to expand their race, since they cannot reproduce through sex. Through embrace, different bloodlines passed down from Sires to their Childes, forming up 13 different clans, and the name of the clan she would be born into, is "Tremere": the Latin word for "Shiver".

Before long, Garrett took off to make preparations for the Embrace, and Leona packed up a small luggage, told Alice that she would go to LA with her new boyfriend for a weekend trip.

"Send me photos." Those were the last words she heard from her friend.

What she said to Alice was half-truth. Leona was going to Los Angeles, indeed, to meet Garrett over there. As for the reason of this journey, Garrett explained, was to help stage her disappearance—it would be much easier for some unfortunate incidents to happen when people are going to someplace new, for example, like when they are travelling.

And on her flight to West Coast, through the small window of the cabin, Leona witnessed her last sunrise.


	4. Embrace

Leona had never been to the rich and famous City of Angels, pity she didn't have time for sightseeing: the ritual would be performed on the very day she arrived. She was a little astounded by how eager Garrett was about the whole thing, considering She was the one who actually made the proposal.

As he requested, Leona arrived at his place in the Beverly Hills at 8 pm—a stone-wall mansion half covered in dense vines, and Garrett was at the entrance to welcome her. According to the taxi driver, this is one of the oldest properties in the area, and while other houses of the same age had been rebuilt for new looks or functions, it remained just as it was at the very beginning: three storeys, absolute symmetry, French style, grand and classic.

"Beautiful manor, Garrett." She stood in front of it, couldn't help but praise aloud, "Seems to me you have a taste for recording time with your residences."

"It's an old man's indulgence, I suppose, because many Kindred have the same fondness. When you've lived too long, you always try to find a way to keep track of things." While saying, Garrett led her through the entrance, where everything needed for Embrace was already set.

Furniture and decorations had been removed from the hall, and he drew an array of large, complex sigils of unknown origin in red on the floor, surrounding the emblem of Tremere clan. Leona was no way an expert in this field, all she knew was the emblem's an alchemic symbol that supposedly indicated a secret that's only known by their founder.

And there were burning candles on the floor, letting out a hint of myrrh, of which she was aware to be used in holy anointing oil, but the color of firelight bursting from the wick was ominously bloody, with a golden aura around the flame.

They were the only source of light in the room, dyeing everything in sight with the blazing red. Leona panicked. Though She was told about the process, actually being there, was like a sacrificial lamb stumbling onto a Satanic altar, and intuition was compelling her to turn back and run.

"Vampires are cursed creatures", they all say something like that in movies and books, not knowing what it's really like and making it look cool, but now she was standing there, facing it with no sugar coating of any kind, the fear was storming in her head…

"It's ok." Garrett tapped her shoulders with both of his hands, "I'm with you."

They walked into that circle of candle lights, sat down in the middle, face to face. "How does it feel…" Leona asked, "to be Embraced?"

"The Childe is half conscious during the process, so their memories about it are usually all…blurry and abstract. To me, personally, I found it very metaphysical, like I'm pulling by two forces—life and death—constantly, until eventually I reach a state of…suspension right on the edge of both sides." When he was depicting it, Garrett's eyes were in a euphoric haze, "As for Sire…well, my Sire pictured it to be a rapture…better than sex, better than feeding, even."

Listening to his description, Leona's fright for what's coming next was diminished, while a brush of pink sneaked on her face instead: "It sounds very…intimate."

"Yes, it is. We are extraordinarily lonely animals, Leona, and there are many who devote their immortality to seeking passion and meaning to fill in that emptiness, longing for reconnection and understanding…I gave up on that long time ago, but by passing this…curse to you, it is the closest I will get to you, and you to me." He drew closer, pondered and asked, "If you want to change your mind now, I won't stop you."

Leona squinted, trying to make out what his expression was when he said so, for she noted the guilt buried in his words.

"How do I find Zack after this?" So she questioned him, "Will you help me?"

Sensing her confusion and retreat, a fog of sadness clouded Garrett's face. That sorrow, so bitter and innocent, like he had to swallow some hardship for her all by himself, that Leona almost instantly regretted asking it. But he still answered her, in an assuring voice:

"Trust me, you will find him."

"So let's start." And she was tired of hesitation.

Then Leona realized the first step is to let Garrett drink her blood—and strangely enough, it wasn't being drain dry that unnerved her, but the bodily touch it would involve: as the name shows, it is an Embrace, and she was rarely this close physically to opposite sex. Hated to admit it, she was actually very shy about this.

Seeing the flush spreading from Leona's cheeks all the way to her neck, Garrett laughed softly, out of both affection and surprise, and it somewhat annoyed her a little, thus pushing her into action. She lay down on him, putting her head on his shoulder, pressed her chest and waist onto his slowly, couldn't stop her body quivering as she felt his fingers moving on her clavicle and down along her spine. There was only one heart that beats in this contact, and Leona understood a corner of the solitude Garrett talked about: It's like she's melting snow with her body temperature.

Leona looked up, and Garrett looked down. She saw a wild, luminescent desire in his gaze, lustful and…famished.

The next thing she knew was his fang piercing through her skin into her neck, and that crimson liquid streamed out of the wounds. There was a small, stinging ache, but with those anxious sucking and licking of his lips and tongue, that physical pain was almost masochistically erotic.

She panted, feeling closer and closer to the fringe of death, while he just held her even tighter, lifting her up, like he's merging her body into his.

But she wasn't just only drained. As her veins were emptied, something from Garrett was flowing into her, like strings weaving in and outside of her shell, invisible and ethereal, and they carried fragments of memories of his. Leona was too weak to discern exactly what they were, but unexpectedly, apart from all those…"mundane" emotions, like loss, remorse, satisfaction, there was an ancient, almost sacred entity buried deep among them, comforting her soul with a messianic mercy.

As if this flood of sensations was too much to bear, Leona surrounded her arms around Garrett's shoulders and held tight, gripping his linen-colored hair like a drowning victim clinging to a floating log, until she fell completely unconscious.

Garrett raised his head, her blood dropping down from his teeth. Consuming that fluid brought color to his face, and just for a moment, he had the lively warmth in his body again. Although he seemed to enjoy the refreshment, the embrace also exhausted him, for he himself almost fainted, too. 

He managed to pull himself up, however, extended his hand to one of the candles nearby, and the melted oil below the flame rose up, floated under the control of his fingertip, and drew a strange mark on Leona's forehead—It was a symbol of triangle, with one eye at each corner of the shape, and as soon as it was finished, the mark illuminated brilliantly like a midnight sun, but disappeared quickly afterwards.

And Leona still wasn't awaken. Her wounds on the neck, though, were already healing up.

"My work is done."

Garrett murmured to himself and left a kiss on her eyes, with a strange sense of liberation, as if he just accomplished his lifelong purpose. 

Just when he sighed in relief, a brutal force broke the front door and a charming figure walked into this house: It was an elegant, French woman in a delicate updo, a champagne gold dress and a stunning fur coat, even her heels were decorated with small, white pearls, like she was supposed to crash a party, instead of this place.

But she had a sword in her hand, and a serious reproach on her face.

"Evening, Prime Judicator Veronica." Garrett responded with a smile, as if he was waiting for her, "You are right on time."

But the fair lady named Veronica didn't take the situation so lightly, like he just did: "Why are you doing this…don't you know it's death sentence?"

"Three hundred years… That's long enough for me." Answering the questions, Garrett lay his Childe down on the floor gently, stood up, calm and unwavering in front of the accusation, "Do your job, then."

And all this time, Leona was in deep slumber, having no idea what was happening and what awaited her in the future. It was as if she slept for an eternity, and what woke her up was the pain of her tied-up wrists. She wrestled with the heaviness on the eyelids to look around, but the glare took her some time to adjust and see the surroundings.

She was on a stage of a massive, luxurious opera hall.

Leona struggled to stand up and make a run, but her limbs were simply numb because of fatigue. Under the scrutiny of the crowd in the auditorium below, she realized she had no chance of escape—On first sight, she knew all of them were vampires. 

"Wha…"

She tried to speak, merely in fluster, but even before the first word came out, two guards in black behind her slapped her in the face and forced her to get up and kneel. At the same time, noises of disturbance rose among the audience: not for her, but for the new entrants to the stage.

So Leona turned to see what's going on, and she couldn't believe what she'd seen: It was Garrett, tied up just like she was, escorted by Veronica at his side. His glasses were broken, his clothes were slashed and soaked in blood, like he went through a hellish fight, and he was again forced to kneel down right beside Leona, as if they were both some prisoners. He buried his head, didn't even look at her in the process.

And the last person that stepped onto the stage was a blonde man in his prime of life, wearing a formal, sumptuous suit with a golden scepter in his hand. When he showed up, the auditorium returned to silence in respect.

"What is…all this…"

Leona whispered in bewilderment and despair, because this…"performance" carrying on in front of her was completely absurd in her eyes. She didn't know, that this was a trial, for her and Garrett.


	5. Trial

"Good evening, my fellow Kindred, apologies for this disrupting summoning, but the matter is urgent and…troubling. We, the Camarilla, have always strived to keep the existence of our race in order, and we all know that without these efforts, the Kindred society would have fallen apart a thousand times already." The blonde, Caucasian male spoke while walking towards the front of the stage. Obviously, he possessed the highest authority in the room, "Among our laws, The Six Traditions are the most fundamental of all, and punishments for violations of them are severe…as the Judicator of Tremere Clan, Garrett, for your experience and seniority, should have understood it."

"Yes, Prince LaCroix." Although weak and badly wounded, Garrett was still in total self-control—in peace, even, "I have nothing to say to defend myself."

Defend himself? For what? And why is she involved? There were so many questions clouding Leona's mind, but she didn't even dare to make a sound, not to mention enquiring or explaining herself: she realized nobody cared—they didn't care she had no idea what crime they were talking about, and if she was innocent for it. They probably didn't even know who she is.

That attitude of indifference—for their own kind…gave her freezing chills.

"The Third Tradition demanded approval from the clan Regent before embracing any human, and you didn't seek approval at all." The Prince had a sigh in pity, "Never thought I would ever need to lecture this, but the nature of our species determined our small population: we are feeding on humans, whose modern progress is making it harder and harder to keep us in secret, so we have to abide by the procedures to make sure our new members are worth the risk."

Now Leona knew what was going on here, still she was utterly unable to understand what Garrett was thinking—keeping her in the dark about the Tradition thing and getting himself caught. Was it because she asked him to do it? That's why he couldn't ask for the permission for her Embrace?

But if Garrett had told her there are whatever regulations about this, she would absolutely be willing to follow it and even if it didn't work, she would in no way force him to turn her.

So why…Garrett, why?

Biting her lower lips in fear, Leona looked at Garrett for just even an small indication of hope or comfort, but he didn't give her anything. Powerlessness—it had been a long time since her last tasted its humiliation and bitterness, and last time…it had caused death.

The mere notion of it tore her heart.

Seeing Garrett already gave up any form of justification, Prince LaCroix thought for quite a while, weighing the words he was going to use, and declared: "You are a very respected member of Camarilla, Garrett, both by your clan and others…but whatever your intentions were, to commit this violation and to conceal your motivations, the law is clear. It pains me to announce it, but the sentence is death, execution by Prime Judicator."

"No!"

With strength and courage bursting out, Leona shouted, rose up and bared her fangs for the first time, like a crippled, agitated animal, almost torn up the chains that bound her hands, but was still easily overpowered by the guards around her. They stomped repeatedly on her stomach, holding her twisting body down, and all she could do was just watching Veronica walking towards Garrett, drawing out her slender, silvery sword, aiming it at his neck.

"I'm sorry."

Finally, Garrett turned his head towards Leona, apologized with a sincere, sorrowful regret.

Then a red splash shrouded her sight, and when this viscous crimson dripped down, she saw Garrett facing her, staring at her with those turbid, lifeless eyeballs, with his head cleanly separated from his neck.

He's dead. He's decapitated. He died of fucking, bloody decapitation. Someone is dead for her again. AGAIN.

Those were the only thoughts in her head.

She wanted to scream and cry, but that impulse stopped in her throat, as if this clog of emotions was too immense to come out from there, and the only sound she was making was a hoarse, tenuous whimper.

God is beyond measure in wanton malice, and matchless in his irony.

A fire ignited from inside Garrett's body, burning all his remains into nothing, and the trial carried onto Leona's part unbothered by her weeps, as if they were mute to all people present.

"Without a Sire, most Childes would be lost in the world, never knowing their place and responsibility," the Prince continued his speech, "therefore, I have decided that…"

But he was interrupted by a group of Kindred who just broke into the opera. Unlike the fancy guests who were here invited, their way of dressing was more casual—t-shirts and jeans, something normal people would choose for daily life; some of them looked more rebellious, though, wearing a punk or progressive style, forming a sharp contrast against the exquisite garments seen in the auditorium.

And the one leading them was a young man in leather jacket, the buzz cut and eagle eyes made him look like a soldier: "Decided what? Killing another innocent for your bullshit law?"

Heated discussions exploded in the hall, with the name "Nines" coming up repeatedly on people's lips. And the uninvited just stood there in silence, glaring fearlessly at Prince LaCroix on stage, as if he's power—a power that could order Garrett to be beheaded on scene—is nothing to them, while the Prince went into a period of consideration. He took a seemingly unintentional glimpse at one of the VIP boxes upstairs, where a white-haired young man who appeared no older than 20 was sitting there, looking back at him too. They had a short exchange of opinions through glances, and the Prince carried on, remaining polite and…almost friendly: 

"Please hear me out, Mr. Rodrigues," He was addressing directly to the leader of this opposing group in person, "I've decided to take on the role of educating this Childe: she shall be instructed the ways of our kind, and be granted with all due rights."

The entire opera sank into silence upon this announcement, and Leona, a Tremere Childe who miraculously survived the trial, finally caught the attention of every single pair of eyes in this space—except for the Prince and the mystery man in the box, who left immediately after the speech. They stared at this young Asian woman covered in her Sire's blood curiously, trying to figure out anything that's interesting enough for her to be spared.

Leona didn't seem to care now, however, even after the guards unchained her. She just sat there on the ground with that blank expression, facing where Garrett was killed—which was completely spotless after the cleansing flame.

Not even a corpse left…to prove his death.

Veronica approached her as the rest of the crowd started leaving. A pain of repentance surfaced on her face, since now on one was watching. "I'm sorry." She said, squatted down, took off her coat and put it on Leona's back, covering her already ragged and dirty dress.

Although this was from the headswoman of Garrett, something about Veronica, a maturity or motherhood, made the gesture very hard to refuse. Leona raised her head towards her, took a few seconds to squeeze out a fragile smile to show some gratitude.

It was the second "I'm sorry" she heard in an hour. It wasn't really that comforting.

"Follow me." Veronica said.

They exited the opera through the backstage passage, then stepped into a Stretch Lincoln Limousine. Prince LaCroix was already in there, reading something on the tablet screen, and as soon as them two arrived, the car took off, blended itself into the traffic with two escorting vehicles.

It was silent for quite some time among the three, until the Prince finished reading. He looked up and smiled, inquiring: "Leona Lee?"

Leona used her silence as an yes. She was still trying to…rebuild her reason around this.

"I'm Sebastian LaCroix, Prince of Camarilla, North America from Clan Ventrue, and this is Veronica LaCroix, Prime Judicator of CNA, also a Ventrue." After a brief introduction, he suspired and took an unexpected, direct way to cut into the topic, "I won't ask if you're alright or rationalize anything, it won't do any good, because the most urgent matter for you is to earn a place in our society, and it won't be any easier than this. How much did Garrett teach you about us?"

And to her own surprise, his pragmaticism helped Leona get back to the track very efficiently, like a boat being pulled to the harbor by a strong anchor in a tempest. She listed the bullet points of everything she knew, and after listening carefully, LaCroix nodded and said: "Good, then you know the basics, you'll learn the rest in practice. I did declare my duty as your tutor, but you are still sireless in fact, and most of the new-borns will be accounted for and educated by their Sires before going through a test to prove themselves qualified as a Neonate—the title of a formal, independent citizen in the Kindred society.

"I'm saying this because for you, you don't have the buffer period of hiding under your Sire's wings and letting him take responsibility for everything, and only a neonate will enjoy the resources Camarilla provides individually: blood bags, haven, job and social ties…"

"So I will have to complete this Neonate test right away," Leona saw where the Prince was heading, "otherwise my survival was illegitimate and unsecured."

"Yes. " LaCroix raised his eyebrows, looking impressed by her reaction, "Also there's a matter of your bloodline, too. Unlike the other six Camarilla clans, Tremere had their own…'screening procedures' for new members. I just talked to your clan Regent, Strauss, about your condition, and we agreed to save you some trouble—he has determined the content of the test himself, so if you go through this one, you will be acknowledged both by Camarilla and your clan. Any questions?"

"Where do I start?" Leona managed to get herself back into the office state, putting all…personal issues aside. Fortunately she'd done this a lot for work before, so it wasn't that hard, and she actually liked the familiar, mechanic feeling of doing this right now—after a night as such, she was just too tired and numbed to deal with emotions.

LaCroix passed her a folder with some files, some cash, and a phone inside: "I just read your documents and noticed you didn't have any experience in martial arts and weaponry, so you will go to Santa Monica and find an agent of mine over there to receive training and instructions of the test, all the details are in here…"

As they were talking, the limo drove into a parking lot of a skyscraper. Seeing this famous building now, Leona understood why she felt like the name LaCroix had passed her ears—they were at the head of LaCroix Groups, one of the oldest investment giants in the world, which her company had worked with. Now that the connection's made, it seems the Prince's the true owner of this empire.

Leona got off the car, gazing at this stunning modern edifice covered by glass curtain walls and feeling a little bit unreal. A few months ago, she was here running errands for her manager, having no clue how close she was to this…supernatural side of the world.

And now, she was one of them.

"Boom!"

Her thoughts were interrupted by a deafening sound of explosion, followed by a intense wave of heat from behind. Leona looked back, only to find fire and smoke rising up in a pit nearby, and a fleet of black vans rushing towards them from not far.

She stood in startle, until Prince LaCroix shouted at her:

"Run! It's Sabbats!"


	6. No Rest For the Wicked

So Leona ran. All the present guards gathered around the Prince, using the Limo as a cover under his command and fighting back with weapons they have in hand: shotguns, machine guns, blades, while Prince LaCroix immediately called for backup. Veronica, however, was facing the enemy with no barrier in between, leaning her back on the car and smoking relaxedly. All the bullets fired by those red-eyed Sabbat soldiers pierced and left dozens of ugly holes on the metal surface of the limousine, but none of them was able to hurt her soft, radiant skin for one bit.

Until a black woman with braided hair came out of one of those Sabbat vans, seemingly the leader of this assault. Unlike her ill-worn cannon fodders, she was dressed in a…strange and excessively decorated way, like some sort of hippie priest: her black-and-white robe was deliberately cut into a irregular shape, and she was wearing dozens of pagan symbols on her neck, as if she's a believer of all the unorthodoxy religions in the world.

"Bishop Bridget." Veronica addressed the woman so, stubbing out her cigar.

"Bitch." Bridget smiled.

The next thing Leona saw from afar, was the two women fighting with each other—Veronica using her swords, and Bridget using her arms that stretched two meters long like tentacles with joints. Their speed was so incredibly fast that even with her vampiric eyes, Leona could barely follow the moves, and compared to their combat, those flying bullets didn't look so quick and…undodgeable now, not like in her memories.

It was her first time to witness the vampiric strength. It was…monstrous.

Swallowing her fear and shock and feeling even more eager to get out of here, Leona came out from the security booth she was hiding in, dashing towards the opposite direction, but before long she found her way was also blocked by Sabbat vehicles, too, and that private army the Prince just summoned was battling with them almost everywhere.

Shooting, chopping, limbs, heads, organs, bowels, there were pieces of meat flying everywhere: the lamplight, the bushes, the fountains…everywhere. A corporate office turned into a war zone, just in a blink.

What frightened her most, however, wasn't really these brutal killings—it was the changes in her perception of them. She thought this violence to be cruel and disgusting, of course, but something else rose up in her sensational parts also, something primitive and hungry, kept her staring at the scarlet liquid gushing out of the wounds of every wounded soldier, no matter which side they were on, telling her how delicious it tastes, and how beautiful its colour is…

"…Kid…Hey! Hey Kid!"

Until a voice pulled her out. She shook her head to find her sanity back, turned around and saw an old man with a big, grey beard and a jeans outfit was shouting and waving at her from the front gate of LaCroix Foundation building, with a rather familiar group of people standing behind him—they were the Kindred who stood up for her in the trial.

Wagering they were her best chance out of this mayhem, Leona quickly snuck out and reached their position. The old man slapped her back with his firm, strong hand and said in a half-worried, half-blaming tone: "What the fuck are you doing here? This is no playground for a fledgling like you!"

"It's not like I had a choice!" Leona was no less anxious, "What's going on? And what are you doing here? You don't…seem like Prince's people."

"Fucking hell no." This beardy man was full of contempt, "But kicking heads and taking names's great fun, and I get to save your sorry ass, too." And the younger guy who the Prince called Mr. Rodrigues stepped up, explained everything properly for her: "The Sabbats are attacking this place…don't know what they are planning, even for those terrorists this is too reckless. We Anarchs are no friends with the Camarilla, but we won't stand by this, too." Then he looked to the old man and said, "Jack, you get her out of here, we can do it."

"Sure, Nines, have fun." Jack snapped his finger.

"Take care." Before taking off with his fellows, Nines gave a light tap on Leona's shoulder, "You take care, too, kid."

Watching them leaving like this, Leona was a little concerned. Compared to those Camarilla soldiers, these Anarchs were rather ill-equipped: they didn't have any armors of sort, and their weapons were very…unprofessional—tire iron, baseball bat, police baton that doesn't seem like an authentic, and Nines was literally bare-handed.

"Don't worry, kid, they are veterans." Jack tapped on the back of her head, let her quit thinking, "Come on."

He led her to a manhole cover on a road nearby, removed it, and jumped right in. Looking down on the smelly sewers, Leona felt a strong sickness in her stomach, but she looked at herself, finding her own body was already stinking of blood, then quickly let go of this unrealistic thought about sanitation and followed Jack down.

She landed in an wonderous steadiness for this height, and even with no lighting of any kind underground, her eyesight was still clear as it could ever be. Lucky for them, this part of the sewers is mainly for discharging rainwater on the surface, and it hadn't been raining a lot these days, so the conditions were tolerable. Jack quickly walked through this maze with no hesitation, taking Leona away from the chaos above.

"Why are you helping me?" Until she can hear nothing but usual traffic and pedestrians on the surface, Leona finally felt at ease and asked.

"I owed your daddy Garrett a favour. We go way back…poor bastard, getting his head chopped for a chick." Jack lighted up a cigarette and smoked, "As for Nines, well, he just has this soft spot for sireless kids…and lots of Anarchs think Gare was killed because LaCroix believed he was too close with them, so, here we are, feeling responsible." Reading the numbers of the exits written on their signs nearby, Jack turned back and asked, "Where you are going?"

"Santa Monica."

"Cool, then we should leave here. I have a night cabbie friend in this area who would take you there without asking stupid questions like, 'what happened to you' or 'can I get you to a hospital'." While saying, Jack crawled into the closest exit, crooking his finger, "There we go, right out of the rabbit hole."

Climbing up in a narrow passage behind Jack's butt wasn't really pleasant, but Leona's was simply happy she could live through this night soon—when creeping out of another manhole, she found herself in a dark alley of a much quieter neighbourhood, already away from the downtown area, 

"Thank you." 

She hadn't been this genuine about thanking for a long time.

"No prob," Jack reached his head out of the alley, looking around to locate their position, "It's six hours till sunrise, we need to hurry up…"

He suddenly stopped talking, beckoning Leona to be quiet with his index finger up. She hadn't known Jack for a long time, of course, but a man like him being so vigilant and nervous with goose bumps on his skin, was definitely alarming enough. 

Then Jack suddenly grabbed Leona and began running, so swiftly that she seldom felt her feet touched the ground. They ran deep into the darkness of these alleyways, turning around and around again, until Jack finally stopped at another exit to the big streets, relaxing and cursing: "Freaking Lasombras…what are they doing here?"

Leona remembered the name: "Lasombra…isn't that one of the two Sabbat clans?"

"Yeah, and if Bridget was leading the Tzmisces attacking LaCroix building, they should be there, too, I mean, that's what they always do—making shit together and let everyone else wipe up their asses, no plan, no benefits." Jack sighed, hand-rolling another cigarette for himself, "I'm telling you, this whole thing doesn't feel right, it feels…planned. Duh, but you shouldn't worry about it, kid, it's way above your paygrade. Besides, I didn't smell many of them, they were probably just passing by."

So Jack took out his phone, made a call to the cabbie friend he just mentioned, and left with a wave to her above his head. Leona waited alone for the taxi to arrive on this side of the street, folding the coat Veronica gave her around herself tighter, which was a strange thing to do—vampires don't really feel cold, it's like…an old habit left by the shadow of her human life. Breathing, too.

However, she didn't notice a shadow standing on the top of the shopping mall a few blocks away, watching her from afar. It was a man with a strange, silver-white wolf mask that covered all of his face except the right eye, wearing a long, black leather trench coat with two axes chained together in his hands. A symbol of crown was embroidered on his back, which was the clan emblem of Lasombra.

"Are you sure, Knight Commander?" Another Lasombra soldier in the same uniform as his came behind him, asked him in confusion but with fear and respect, "Jack was definitely a threat, and this Childe seemed very close to LaCroix…"

"Remember, we are going undercover, secrecy is above everything else." The commander answered coldly, "Send the news to Bishop, the target is destroyed, she can retreat now."

And so indeed, Bridget ordered the troops to retreat from the LaCroix Group shortly. The two squats joined forces, leaving LA in two big trucks.

There was a huge death toll on Bridget's part, but she didn't seem to be disturbed by it—in fact, she brought four young humans, two men and two women, into the container, as a treat for whoever survived tonight—these four were not some cheap, easy homeless or hookers, but fine-looking, well-fed people who were just out in the night clubs for fun.

"Do whatever you want—fuck them, eat them, torture them, you've all earned this." Bridget shouted, throwing those naked, crying humans into the crowd of the red-eyed cannon fodders, "Rejoice, my warriors."

The desperate screamers were soon flooded by a plie of fanatic monsters. Appreciating this scenery of revelry from a distance, Bridget reached her hand into the mouths of carnivores with her freely elongating arm, searching for a snack, and took out the first chunk of flesh she grabbed. It was a bloody penis.

She shrugged and ate that junk, wiping her hand on the back of a Sabbat who was busy having an oral job given by a head. Then she looked at the masked man who sat at the corner, showing no interest of this feast, asked: "You don't want to join us?"

He didn't answer.

"The mask was a nice touch, by the way." Bridget walked towards him, stroke the nose tip of his wolf face like she was petting a dog, "Your little princess will surely love the new look of her favourite puppy."


	7. Evening Business

The next evening, in front of a house on the street where Leona took the cab, Sebastian LaCroix and Veronica LaCroix were standing there, all in plainer clothes to blend into the crowd. Their curiosity about this place didn't alert the others, for they were far from the first bystanders around here today—a murder happened last night, making this place a freshly yellow-taped crime scene.

What the local news media reported was that, the victim, an archaeologist who specialized in Mesopotamian relics and historical remains, was brutally killed and dismembered, with several organs missing, no fingerprints, footprints or traces of DNA. For the victim was single and lived alone, his death was not discovered until the neighbors smelled the horrifying odor two hours ago, and the police initially deducted that this was a crime of a psychopathic killer—of course it was nothing that shocking, compared to the major terrorist attack happened at the head office of LaCroix Group, which had successfully made the global headlines.

But the Prince and the Prime Judicator knew better. This human was working under the direct sponsorship from Prince LaCroix, on a secret project only three of them knew—or it should have been so, and last night, the suicide attack led by Bishop Bridget drew away their attention, whereas the Lasombra Templars had a perfect chance to hit, and they even learnt to hide its true nature of professional assassination by mutilating the body, while distracting the public attention by creating a bigger news that was much more dangerous to your rivals.

Well played. Sebastian had to give the credits. Especially when everyone thought the Sabbats to be brainless animals.

Watching the heavy police force working inside the residence, the Prince commented: "This generation of Sabbat leaders is much more dangerous…they were already troublesome enough by being mad dogs, and now they are smart mad dogs."

"I heard the whole thing was that new Knight Commander's idea." Veronica was also worried, "They said he was already a professional at this even before being Embraced."

"What's his name? Ulysses?"

"Yeah, but not his real name as human, of course. Nobody knows that yet."

"Well," Sebastian wasn't surprised about that, "for a professional, you would certainly expect him to be discreet."

Finally the officers and detectives were preparing to leave, and after exiting the house, all of them gathered around the Prince loosely, while an office handed over a box of books and documents to him—these were all the files concerning the subject he had the archaeologist working on.

"Good job, officers, thank you very much for this." Prince LaCroix took over the box. Fortunately, he had thought about this scenario before investing into this young scholar who was eager to be famous, so he had him agreed to keep everything about the research off any electronic devices and on paper materials that would be put into a box labeled "A.S.".

"No problem, mister." And the cop answered with a friendly smirk.

"Now, if all of you here would be so kind, please forget about ever seeing me, this lady, and the box."

After saying this, Sebastian put the box inside an ordinary private car, while Veronica took the driver's seat. They left just like a couple who'd done a grocery shopping, and the police officers went back to work as usual, didn't suspect anything in the process.

"You need to rest, now that all this mess is settled." Veronica glanced at Sebastian and said, noticing the unhidable tiredness wearing his eye corners, "You haven't slept since the thing about Garrett…"

Then she stopped talking, realizing that he was already asleep on the front passenger seat. She smiled, put one hand on his, and susurrated gently:

"Bonne nuit, mon amour."

At the same time, Leona got up from bed in the haven the Prince arranged for her—that's how the Kindred call their own residences—and cleaned herself up: she didn't even bother to take off the dirty clothes before sleep. She was just too tired.

The apartment she lived in now was a small studio that had all necessities in 300 square feet, but it's functional, tidy with all daily-uses equipped and sun-blocking membranes on the window, so Leona wasn't complaining. Took a shower, put up some clothes, she finally looked normal and passable in the crowd again. Because the closet was prepared potentially everyone, it had only one outfit for each size, and the normcore style made her look like a tomboy—what's more, they were all black: black denim jacket, black shirt, black jeans, black boots. Black underwear, even.

After last night, she got why this choice of color. It was not really for the conventional, gothic images that humans think vampires have, merely to make the suspicious stains harder to be spotted. Then she stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, looking at the bloody dress she threw into the basin. The blood had darkened and solidified, making the cloth hard and rough.

But…it's still blood.

She suddenly felt hungry, and her mouth became watery soon after.

Realizing how disgusting this was, Leona turned her head away fiercely and walked out of the place. She stopped by the fridge, opened it and found it empty, didn't know she should felt disappointed or…relieved.

Anyway, back to work. That's the only thing she could do now that felt…human.

Just like the Prince told her, everything she needed was in the folder: 300 dollar cash, addresses and keys, an unbranded but sleek smartphone with a SIM card inside, and even some saved numbers in the phone contact—including the agent that she had to find. Leona tried to call this guy, but he didn't answered, so she just took off directly to his place.

It was a beautiful, sea-facing villa designed in Tuscan style, with a lovely rustic-Italian garden where the plants were refinedly cared and trimmed. The lights were on and there was laughing in the house, so knowing at least somebody was at home, Leona rested her previous worries, and pressed the doorbell.

"Coming…is it the pizza guy?"

A soft, flirtatious female voice came, and two buxom, supermodel-ish women opened the door, with only lingerie on them. Leona froze, while the ladies looked her up and down curiously, as if she was some…service girl.

"Well that was quick…how much is it?"

And a man in his late-twenties approached, too, wearing a bathrobe with some cash in his hand. He was a handsome, well-built brunet, objectively speaking, but the messy hair, sweat on the skin, and the drowsiness in his eyes just completely ruined Leona's first impression of him.

No wonder he didn't pick up the phone.

She looked at him, politely controlling the loathing that was going to break out on her face otherwise, and seeing Leona's slightly luminescent eyes and ivory skin, he finally woke up completely, muttered: "OK, it's not the pizza guy."

"She's cute…plain but cute, like Bambi." While one of the women commented on Leona.

"Yum." And other winked.

Leona chuckled in embarrassment, cleared her throat and said to the man: "Mercurio, right? It's Leona…I'm here for…umm…evening business."

As if something important finally came to mind, this Mercurio guy slapped on his forehead, extended a "sorry" gesture to Leona and said to the women beside him: "Alright, babes…my apologies, but the party's over."

He let Leona in and sent the disappointed girls out, tidied himself up and said: "You are here for the big test, right? LaCroix told me to assist you and observe the process."

"Yes." Watching him for quite some time now, Leona asked, "you are not vampire, are you?"

"No, I'm human, but Prince LaCroix feeds me his blood once in a month and that bounds me to his service, in exchange, I get your vampire physical power and I don't get old, too—you probably can't tell at all, but I'm almost sixty." While answering, Mercurio beckoned her to follow him, "A term for people like me is ghoul."

They went into the garden, opened a hidden entrance in the gazebo by pulling a bracket lamp nearby and walked down the stairs into a basement…no, to be more precise, it's an extravagant arsenal preserving all the deadly weapons Leona had or hadn't heard of in showcases locked by codes, with a square white table in the middle covered in scattered components; and further inside, there was a well-decorated office where he had a huge leather sofa and fridge to even meet and entertain guests.

While Leona was startled by this massive collection of knives and guns, Mercurio entered the office and took out a tablet from his drawer, explaining: "I've already received the message from your clan Regent, but it could only be unlocked by your thumb fingerprint. You Tremeres are very…stealthy that way."

So he clicked on a video attached by one email, plugged in an earbud for Leona and handed the tablet to her, then went back to the arsenal. Both in fear and curiosity, Leona played the clip.

It was a surprisingly young man—a boy, even—with snowy, silky hair and a skin even paler than usual Kindred, like he's an albino patient. He wore a long, red wool coat, stood by the fireplace and stated in the video:

"Good evening, Leona, I'm Maximillian Strauss, the Regent of Tremere clan in North America. I believe Prince LaCroix had already explained the situation, so let's get to the content of the test straight away:

"A previously lost, supernatural object of Tremere Origin has been found obtained by human hands accidentally: a portrait of the biblical character Cain that is about to be displayed in a place in Santa Monica called Gallery Noir. It is said to be bleeding and causing spiritual presence by gallery guards, and has posed itself as a threat of revealing our existence to mankind, so your main goal is to destroy the painting and its unearthly power.

"But other than that, my requirement for you is to also conceal its relation to Tremere clan to everyone besides me without causing suspicions. Of course this will collide with your task of destroying the painting, for you need to disclose information to get assistance from the ghoul Mercurio, but this is the exact purpose of this test: you will prove your ability of upholding the Masquerade to the Prince of Camarilla, and prove your loyalty to Tremere clan at the same time.

"The painting is scheduled to be displayed this Friday, you have until then. Good luck on your test, young one, we shall talk more afterwards."


	8. Sucker For Pain

The video was automatically deleted after being played, and Leona fell into thinking for a while: actually, she found the test too easy—or at least it sounded like that. Destroying a painting, even if it was haunted and it was of course necessary to do so, was not really what Leona expected for a major test that Prince LaCroix depicted. She was literally preparing herself for killing, or multiple killings, for that matter.

Maybe there's a catch. Leona thought. After all, she's still all new to this.

"So what's the job?" Mercurio came up and asked.

"Destroy a painting in Gallery Noir." Leona answered, "You are local, do you know anything?"

Mercurio seemed pretty familiar: "Oh you mean that 'Bleeding Cain' portrait thing? It's bit viral on social media, but nobody really took it seriously. Most people think it's the gallery's doing, you know, creating some hypes before the show…but if the boss wants you to destroy it, then it's genuine."

"What do you think it is?" Leona gave back the tablet.

"Could be anything." Mercurio shrugged, "Ghosts, curse, magic, whatever. You are newbie, so let me break it to you: there are loads of weird stuff sharing the night with you guys…oh and you Tremeres have blood magic, too, right? What's the name again? Thaumaturgy?"

Remembering Strauss's "special task" for her, Leona panicked inwardly a little when the subject came to her own clan. But since it's already mentioned, avoiding it will only make it seem more conspicuous, Leona just reacted naturally: "What blood magic?"

She did know zip about this…Thaumaturgy thing. She was being honest.

Surprised at how ignorant Leona was even about her own bloodline, Mercurio sighed, both troubled and worried: "Jeez, you are green…you know what a discipline is?"

"Yeah, it's like a vampire superpower, every clan has their own ones." Leona read about it in Garrett's office before. 

"Probably the fundamental difference that sets your bloodlines apart." Mercurio used himself to explain the whole thing, trying to keep it simple and newbie-friendly, "You already have a superman body, which is what we ghouls have, too, but the disciplines can make you guys even stronger and faster, or give you mind-controlling abilities, et cetera.

"However, you see, most of the disciplines can be shared between two or three clans, like the one called 'Presence'—Ventures, Toreadors, even Brujahs can use it, but you Tremeres, you guys are special: Thaumaturgy is only yours to wield, and it's a badass discipline, making people jealous. Guess that's why you guys always seem so sneaky to others."

While saying, he took out two bags of dark, red fluid from the fridge, tossed them to Leona: "You look wobbly, haven't drunk any juice since the Embrace, have you? Take these for a starter."

Feeling the cold, smooth texture of the package with her fingers, Leona's body started to tremble, so captivated by the blood inside that she didn't even reply.

"And by the way, you won't be allowed to have your own food supply in the test—you get every juice bag from me. I will need to measure the amount of blood consumed by you during the whole process, too, it's…part of the assessment." Heard Leona's gulping and coughing, Mercurio stopped, for he knew that she definitely didn't pay attention to a word he said. He shook his head, murmured something like "poor girl", then continued, "Finished your drink, then, I don't want you to start training in hunger."

He opened another hidden door besides the fridge, walked in with a gun and a small dagger. Leona wiped her mouth clean, still a little dizzy, but feeling much better and followed him inside, finding herself standing in a roomy shooting ground.

"Now, Vampire Fighting Class 101," Mercurio smiled, as if training fledglings was great fun to him, "Glock for humans, and blade for vampires. Which one do you want to start?"

"The Glock." Leona didn't hesitate, "I don't want to do close fight with you in bathrobe."

"Surprise! You actually have a sense of humor! Good for you."

And so they started the first shooting lesson for Leona. Picturing it to be very complex, she listened and watched Mercurio with all cautions, but thanks to the supreme physicality she had right now, recoil of one-handed guns such as this was almost nothing to a vampire hand, and she could stay in a posture like a statue, so singly pulling out and shooting was no problem at all in fact—after one hour's practice, she was able to fire in expert precision.

The other more complex and skillful parts were less easy, though, like assembly, filling in bullets and changing magazines. It took her the rest of the night to complete the whole process smoothly, and she still needed to practice in her own time to make sure she would be quick enough for actual encounters.

On Tuesday and Wednesday, she was solely focused on melee and unarmed combat: the hardest bit to chew on in the training. At the first five minutes, she was still untimely shy about body contacts, especially because they were all in close-fitting, skin-exposing gym clothes—but that was before taking several painful hits. After that, screwed it. She just jumped on this athletic, Italian hunk and battled like an animal. 

For a playboy who spent his night on threesome, Mercurio was amazingly masterful in these dangerous arts, slightly bettered Leona's impression of him: upon first sight, she was seriously doubting Prince's choice of people. Then every time after the training, he would share the information he gathered with her, including the blueprint of the gallery, timetable for security shifts, and even the list of the crew that built and decorated the exhibition, and discussed the plan together. 

Exclaiming at his resourcefulness secretly, Leona asked him what he did for a job, and Mercurio just threw up his hands and said he's the man "who can get anything that anybody wants".

And just before Thursday, they learnt an interesting fact: one of the security guards confessed privately to Mercurio's informant after a few drinks in the bar, that the painting was completely normal—all the pictures and videos online were processed, it was nothing more than an advertising campaign.

Mercurio joked that after all the bullshits and tragedies, Leona finally had some luck on her side, but after laughing, this made Leona wonder: was Regent Strauss really unaware of this, or…something else?

Anyway, it was useless to think about this now, tomorrow night was the big night, and she presumed no one above would care enough to respond her doubts: like they said, she was worthless unless she could prove herself worthy. Leona double checked the equipment she got from Mercurio, memorizing the plan, the map of the gallery, the routines of security patrol…

Was it always so hard, too, for everyone? She couldn't help but think about all the Kindred she'd met, picturing how they started their unlife: high and powerful like the Prince and the Prime Judicator, rebels like Nines and Jack, even Garrett…and the Sabbats, like Bishop Bridget and…Zack.

She will find him. Determined her mind so, Leona fell asleep, and woke up on 7 pm of Thursday night, like clockwork. She sat at the bed for a while quietly, got up, bathed and picked a loose, hoodie jacket for tonight, so that when she wanted to she could cover her face and figure. Put the blood bags and 9mm rounds in her waist pack, inserted the knife into her belt, and hid the gun on her back, Leona stood in front of the mirror, making sure that nothing shady would be seen by a passerby. 

She looked just like an ordinary girl who's into cyber-punk, functional style, even with a slogan on the back of her hoodie. It says "a sucker for pain" in capital letters.

"I'm leaving." She texted Mercurio, who replied quickly: "Already? You are fearless."

Oh she was scared like hell. But since when dilly-dallying does any good to it?

Gallery Noir was within the walking distance from her haven, which was rather convenient. Just as they had planned, Leona took a detour to avoid the guard at the front door, and climbed up from the back of the building into the second floor, which was where the portrait of Cain was set on display. Her seemingly fragile and harmless nails could cling to the brick wall like hooks, allowing her to go up like a gecko.

Mercurio had paid one of the staff to leave one window unlocked, so she reached to this currently only entrance into the gallery, but didn't rush her way in. Instead, she hanged herself outside of the window, put her ear against the wall and focused, using her vampiric hearing to detect the guard's whereabouts. Lucky for her, the window was carefully selected for its position in a dark, blind alley and its facing towards another building, so nobody saw her suspending high up there.

Small, private gallery like this wasn't heavily protected at night, even before the big event: there were usually two people on duty, one in the camera room and one on patrol, and the one who leaked the big secret couldn't survive without being away from toilet for longer than half an hour after the drinks, so at this moment, there was only one guy in the gallery, and he mainly stayed in front of the monitors, but would go out to check everything once in a while.

Leona could hear him yawning even from outside. Too bad for the owner, but it made things easier for her. She waited until the guard left the security camera room, snuck in quietly and flexibly like a cat, and located her target on first glimpse. Although knowing that the guard would took some time to finish the ground and first floors, she didn't intend to stay any longer: snatch the portrait and go, destroy it somewhere else, that was what she had in mind.

Until she actually saw the portrait. 

As if the painting had some special magic, compelling her to stop and look at it properly, Leona literally paused and couldn't take her eyes away from it. The content of the portrait was pretty intuitive: a young, male Carthaginian was hung in the middle of pure darkness, with his head down, his arms folded on his chest and his legs curled up, forced into this position by a kind of crimson, half-transparent strings that came from all directions in the painting, strangling and imprisoning him.

So this…is Cain? The Cain?

Leona was never big on religion, and she only knew some basics about the bible stories, but a solemn air of sorrow and worship surrounding this portrait intrigued her, and she just couldn't let go…

And suddenly, the strings in the painting came alive. They started to squirm on the canvas and reached out for her, and before she could even react, a flood of glowing, red chords cocooned her and dragged her into the portrait. By the time the patrolling guard came to the second floor, everything went back to normal silence. He didn't notice a thing.


	9. The First Murderer

Leona was taken into a total darkness, like she entered a hidden world inside the painting. She seemed to be standing on some substance, but when she tried to walk around, the undifferentiated black surroundings made her efforts useless. Then she heard a deep, magnetic male voice from afar, chanting some old verses of unknown origin:

"I dream of the first times,  
the longest memory;  
I speak of the first times,  
the oldest Father;  
I sing of the first times,  
and the dawn of Darkness…"

She followed the voice, and a male figure faded into her sight. It was the dark-haired Carthaginian in the painting, but not restrained and unclothed, merely standing there, with his back facing her.

And did that mean…he's Cain?

When trying to get closer to him, Leona suddenly felt the softness of soils under her feet. She looked down, finding herself stepping on actual grounds all of a sudden, and looked up to see a primitive yet majestic scenery of plains. Cain was standing in front of a rough stone house surrounded by wooden fences, holding a basket of fresh fruits and vegetables.

"Each of us, in our way,  
set about to live  
and take our sustenance from the land.  
And I, first-born Cain, I,  
with sharp things,  
planted the dark seeds,  
wet them in earth,  
tended them, watched them grow…"

Like a storyteller, the more Cain said, the more Leona could see—right after his words, a strong, joyful blonde man came to them, leading the sheep herd back to the pen. Carrying a cute, cloud-like lamb in his hands, the young shepherd walked towards Cain and gave him a brotherly, one-handed hug, as Cain continued:

"And Abel, second-born Abel  
tended the animals,  
aided their bloody births,  
fed them, watched them grow.  
I loved him, my Brother.  
He was the brightest,  
The sweetest,  
The strongest.  
He was the first part of all my joy."

Even just from the happiness of his voice, Leona could feel the love Cain harbored in his heart, for Abel. She looked at them walking away together in marvel, and followed them in confusion—she didn't know what to do here, because she couldn't interfere anything. Should she just…watch?

She knew the story. It wasn't a happy ending.

"Like our Father said to us,  
Cain, Abel to Him Above:  
you must make a sacrifice -  
a gift of the first part  
of all that you have…"

At the direction they proceeded, Leona could discern a faint shape of stone altar. It didn't seem that far, at first, but it moved further away when they got closer, taking forever to reach, as if…the storyteller wanted to stop the time right here.

"And I, first-born Cain, I  
gathered the tender shoots,  
the brightest fruits,  
the sweetest grass,  
And Abel, second-born, Abel  
slaughtered the youngest,  
the strongest,  
the sweetest of his animals…"

But they reached their destination still. Abel took out his knife and slitted the throat of his lamb, spilling the blood on the altar, while Cain placed his sacrifice and lit the fire. The brothers—and Leona—watched the smoke floated up, reaching to the Lord who always has "an ineffable, great plan".

And out of the blue, an invisible strength threw Cain away from the Altar, whereas a gentle, white light of holiness descended upon Abel.

"The sacrifice of Abel, second-born,  
smelled sweet to the One Above  
and Abel was blessed.  
And, I, first-born Cain, I  
was struck from beyond by  
a harsh word and a curse,  
for my sacrifice was unworthy…"

The sky and the land both darkened, sinking the whole world into the night. Cain, whose body was aching because the punishment of God, crawled his way back to the altar, looked at the burnt, black remains of the lamb, cried and prayed, night after night, even forgot about eating, sleeping, and his farming. 

Though being the favored one, Abel didn't alienate or even show a single sign of dislike to his brother. Every night he would bring food and clothes here, holding a torch, comforting Cain, even praying beside him, to ask the forgiveness of the One Above for his brother.

Cain gazed at the face of Abel, as if he was the only consolation in this darkness. When praying, there was an angelic halo on Abel's face, radiant even at night—the blessing of the Lord, for the true devotion and the pure kindness.

And he suddenly realized something. Leona, too.

"Oh God…" Upon the realization, Leona shuddered and gasped. But no one could hear her.

The love for Abel in Cain's eyes blackened, dismal and almost mournful for the horrifying truth he just discovered. He shivered for the battle that was frying his mind and conscious, lowered his head towards the ground, as if he couldn't now even bear the sight of his brother.

The next night, he stopped praying altogether.

"And when Father said  
the time for Sacrifice has come again…"

The storyteller, in Cain's voice, started again cruelly. It was a still beautiful, cloudless day, Abel proudly brought his lamb, his fruit of labor in front of the altar.

"And Abel led his youngest,  
his sweetest,  
his most beloved  
to the sacrificial fire;  
I did not bring my youngest,  
my sweetest,  
for I knew the One Above would not want them…"

Looking at the empty hands of Cain, Abel asked confusedly:

"Cain, why did you not bring a sacrifice,  
a gift of the first part of your joy,  
to burn on the altar of the One Above?"

There was no blame in his tone, simply anxiety out of the care he had for his older brother. Such love, such…innocence.

If at this moment…Leona thought. If Abel could show the slightest disdain for Cain, giving Cain a reason to hate him and to feel righteous about it, then maybe what was coming next wouldn't happen. But he would never do that, did he? Otherwise he wouldn't be Abel, the Abel. His heart was so saintly and virtuous, that it made the sufferings of Cain so…unworthy of mentioning, so…petty.

And that was where the shame came from. With shame, rose anger.

"I cried tears of love as I, with sharp things,  
sacrificed that which was the first part of my joy,  
my brother."

Cain thrust the blade into Abel's body, the blade that Abel used to killed his lamb, and lay his body on the altar, lighting it up with fire.

The blood of an innocent. It smelt…so sweet to Leona's vampire nose.

But the burning of the body didn't seem to stop the bleeding. That warm, blooming red kept pouring out from the fire, rushing and painting everything in sight with its contagious color: the altar, the helpless lamb, the house behind them, everything…even the vast, borderless land.

And so Cain fell, and Leona fell with him, in this alarmingly scarlet abyss, the deeper they fell, the darker it became. On top of them, the thick, viscid stream of blood formed a gigantic, terrible face, shouting in rage:

"Cursed are you, Cain,   
who killed your brother!  
As I was cast out,  
so shall you be!"

It was the face of Adam, father of the two brothers. Every word he said formed into an undercurrent, pushed Cain deeper, and deeper, until everything returned to the beginning, black void. The condemned First Murderer crumbled, and the crimson strings Leona saw in the painting aroused like sprouts of evil seeds, shrouded Cain in his desperate slumber.

"And He exiled me to wander in Darkness,  
the land of Nod…"

Then the black in this space started to have lines, shapes and shades, crooking and twisting, depicting a grey, lifeless wilderness. Cain got up, naked, stumbled aimlessly in this ominous land. The strings were still binding his limbs, making every step he took a struggle.

Leona moved along his shallow, strength-less footprints, watching his feet blistered and bled while he trod on the crude rock and the sharp stones. He didn't react to this physical ache, as if it was intentional, for self-punishment.

Even for a bystander, the scene was unbearable.

"I flew into the Darkness,  
I saw no source of light,  
and I was afraid...  
And alone."

His voice, insensitive and thoughtless.


	10. Father of All Fathers

It was like Cain had wandered in this land of Nod for forever, but his journey was fast-forwarded in front of Leona's eyes: she could see his body wither, his skin shrivel and his eyes protrude within a minute, turning him from a man into a set of bones with skins.

He couldn't take or grow anything from the ground. He spilled Abel's blood on earth and forced the earth to drink the life of an innocent, so God deemed him unable to live on any soil.

"I was alone in the Darkness  
and I grew hungry.  
I was alone in the Darkness  
and I grew cold.  
I was alone in the Darkness  
and I cried…"

That crying didn't come with tears, because his body was drained dry—It was sheer whimper, a whimper so distorted and non-human as if it was the sound of the wind blowing through a hollow, wooden log.

Until he heard footsteps coming from before him. He raised his head, looking at this beautiful woman with fiery, red hair approach him in a simple, white linen dress, holding food, wine and clothes in her hands. Behind her, is a lovely hut surrounded by fields of fragrant flowers and green farmland, like an oasis in the desert.

She held Cain and sat down, put his head gently on her lap whose skin silky smooth like pearls, clothed him, fed him, warmed him with the heat of her own body. Regaining some strength, Cain reached out his wizened hand to the woman's face, as if wondering whether or not it was his illusions before dying:

"Who would comfort one so Cursed as I?  
Who would clothe me?  
Who would feed me?"

And the woman answered, her honey voice offering succor and surcease:

"I am your Father's first wife,  
who disagreed with the One Above  
and gained Freedom in the Darkness.  
I am Lilith.  
Once, I was cold, and there was no warmth for me.  
Once. I was hungry and there was no food for me.  
Once, I was sad, and there was no comfort for me."

And yet, here she was, showing mercy that no one had given to her.

After that, there was a period of dream-like, surreal peacefulness, as Cain rested in Lilith's place, being nursed back to health. The scene was dazzling for Leona, as if someone deliberately casted a light under the roof, beautifying this memory, Cain sat at the window, watching those plants that miraculously and unnaturally grew on this barren land, and asked:

"Out of Darkness,  
how did you build this place?  
How did you make clothes?  
How did you grow food?"

Lilith was weaving right by his side, with a sewing machine she made on her own, looked at him like a mother and wife:

"Unlike you, I am Awake.  
I see the Threads that spin  
all around you, I make that  
which I need out of Power."

She caught the a blood-red string that bound Cain, pulled it right in front of his face. Cain's eyes widened. It was the first time he saw this, the thread that marked the Curse of God on him.

And this woman, this Lady of the Night, turned the curse on her into her strength. Both in desire and hope, Cain held her hands and pleaded:

"Awaken me, then, Lilith." He said.  
"I have need for this Power.  
Then, I can make my own clothes,  
make my own food,  
make my own House."

Yet Lilith hesitated:  
"I do not know what the  
Awakening will do for you,  
for you are truly Cursed by your Father.  
You could die.  
You could be forever changed."

Her words were truth, but Leona sensed more than that beneath her burdened eyebrows. Cain seemed…more than just a stray animal she collected to her, and she was afraid she would lose him.

"Even so, a life without Power will not be worth living.  
I would die without your gifts.  
I will not live as your Thrall."

But Cain insisted. He knew that Lilith would do anything he asked. Because she loved him...and he took advantage of that. So with a depression glooming on her bright eyes, Lilith cut her wrist and shed her blood into a bowl. 

Cain drank it. At the moment he took the last sip, the whole world again turned to total darkness.

"Puff…"

While suddenly, it was ignited by a fire, scarlet flames with a light of gold hovering over them—the flames that Leona saw burning whenever a Kindred is dead—swallowing the everything, leaving only a long path down into the burning pit. Cain walked along the trail, and Leona trod behind him in this combusting hell.

"And from the Darkness  
came a bright shining light -  
fire in the night.  
And the archangel Michael,   
General of Heaven,  
Wielder of the Holy Fire,  
revealed himself to me…"

In a white robe and silver armors, with his snowy, wonderous wings lifting him up from ground, Michael pointed his sword to Cain, the sword that burnt the same fire as the one creating this abyss, and enquired:

"Son of Adam, Son of Eve, thy crime is great,  
and yet the mercy of my Father is also great.  
Will you not repent the evil that you have done,   
and let his mercy wash you clean?"

Even knowing that everything in front of her eyes was just the display of…a story, upon these words, Leona just couldn't help but scoffed in contempt, the same contempt Cain held on his face.

Could this mercy be more…hypocritical?

Cain didn't even bother to give an answer, just walked right past Michael the Archangel. Not before long, a second angelic figure appeared in his path.

"Then Raphael came on lambent wings,  
light over the horizon,  
the driver of the Sun,  
ward of the East…"

Carrying the second message from the Lord, Raphael spoke:

"Cain, son of Adam, son of Eve,  
your brother Abel forgives you your sin,  
will you not repent, and accept the mercy of the Almighty?"

The sinner, however, still remained silence, resisted the offer quietly. And so the body of Raphael burst a scalding, glaring light, and the voice of anger came from inside:

"Then, for as long as you walk this earth,  
you and your children will fear the dawn,  
and the sun's rays will seek to burn you like fire,  
wherever you hide, always.  
Hide now, for the Sun rises to take its wrath on you."

Then himself became solis, blinding Leona's eyes which were already accustomed to darkness, boiling and melting her flesh. The pain and the vesicles on her skin were so real and unbearable, that she screamed in panic, but a boundless cloak sprang out from Cain's shoulder, and the night below the cloak sheltered and healed her.

Leona looked up to Cain's side face, like a young eagle hiding under her father's wings, and came to the awareness that something deep inside him was changing. He wasn't that young, Carthaginian farmer anymore, he was gradually transforming into something else, something…familiar.

Understanding what this meant, Leona froze, and Cain just kept walking after the light dissipated, and with every step he took, she felt he was becoming…closer to her. Or she was closer to him.

A rain of weightless, obsidian feathers dropped from above, fading every noise away, even the burning sound of Michael's Holy Fire, until everything crushed into the absolute quietness.

Quiet, like death.

"I heard the sound of gentle rushing wings,  
and I saw the black wings of Uriel draped around me -  
Uriel, reaper, angel of Death,  
dark Uriel who dwells in darkness…"

This Uriel, with his solemn expression and without the shining halos of his brothers, stood in front of Cain in a mourning posture:

"Son of Adam. Son of Eve.   
God Almighty has forgiven you your sin.  
Will you accept his mercy and let me take you to your reward,   
no longer cursed?"

While facing the other two Archangels fearlessly, there was something about Uriel so heavy and ominous in the air that Cain couldn't breathe at his normal pace. Gritting, Cain said to Uriel, reaffirming his own resolution:

"Not by Abel's forgiveness, but my own, will I be forgiven.  
Not by God's mercy, but my own, will I live.  
I am what I am, I did what I did,  
and that will never change.  
So not by the One Above's grace, but mine alone,  
will I live, in pride."

The feathers floating around trembled at his words. Uriel looked at Cain, with eyes of nearly pity, and the curse of the Almighty came out of his lips:

"Then, for as long as you walk this earth,  
you and your children will cling to Darkness.  
You will drink only blood,  
You will eat only ashes,  
You will be always as you were at death,  
Never dying, living on.  
You will walk forever in Darkness,  
all you touch will crumble into nothing,  
until the last days.''

He disappeared, leaving Cain alone on this road of curse—finally, his punishment was greater than he could bear. He kneeled on the ground and cried, like a grudging, dying beast, and tears of blood streamed out of his eyes. His lament for this eternal cruelty left Leona in a striking shock and sorrow, even without herself noticing, a drop of tear snuck down her cheeks.

So this…this was how it all began?

Lilith came to Cain, crouched down, stroked his trails of tears and whispered:

"You have over reached your bounds,  
you have gone too far,  
you threatened your very essence,  
I command you to stop, before you are beyond salvage."

But even her couldn't waver his heart. Cain stood up, swayed his arm gently, and Lilith's figure shattered like sands, while the fire died out in obedience.

Leona gazed at him in awe, lost for words—there was no word could define what she felt right now. If she had to made a comparison, it was like…witnessing a star being born.

Cain. He's the father. The Father. Father of all of them.

"Deep within me a seed was planted,  
a seed of rebellion.  
I opened myself up once more, to the Night,  
and saw the infinite possibilities in the stars  
and knew that a path of power, a path of Blood  
was mine for the taking,  
so I awakened in me this Final Path,  
and became the Beginning of My Kind…"

Suddenly, some disturbing buzzing flew into her ear, like the noises made by radios when the signal is bad, completely ruined this ceremonious moment, and the shape of Cain was gone also. This strange world in this painting returned to emptiness again, until a woman's exciting voice came up from back behind Leona:

"What do you think, Garrett, of my work?"


	11. In the Mind of Madness

Upon the words of this mysterious woman, Leona was dragged into the room of a vintage flat, where drafts and hand scripts were left all over the beautiful Persian carpet, and outside the window, the moonlight poured in flows of serene silver, and she could hear the watering sound of Danube River.

Leona didn't know why she was so sure it was Danube, probably because the vinyl that was put on the record player was John Strauss Jr.'s An der schönen blauen Donau. The woman was buried on her desk, kept on mumbling with a distinctive Italian accent:

"I did it! I learnt the writing of Cain!" She was ecstatic like a little girl who had her favorite toy, "What you saw was the beginning in the Book of Nod, I merely copied it on my own object…but I will be able to do something original! Now that I made the first step…"

She stopped out of the blue, raised her head up and turned around, as if she finally realized she was talking to someone that was not Garrett. She stared at Leona with her blank eyes behind her glasses, and Leona realized that she was blind—and for unnatural reasons, because there were black webs of veins on her eyelids, spreading all the way to her eyebrows and her cheeks.

"You are not Garrett."

She approached Leona, extended her hand to touch her face, and to Leona's astonishment, she indeed touched her. The woman sniffed, looking confused: "But you smell like him…and if you are not him, how did you enter here in the first place…Ah, you are his Childe, aren't you?"

Feeling unnerved, Leona replied politely, with her fingers on her knife: "Yes. And you are?"

"I'm surprised he didn't tell you about me. Young lads these days, so rude." The woman laughed like she was old-aged, but she looked no more than 40, "The name is Anastacia, I'm Garrett's Sire. Your blood smells extremely young, haven't been in this unlife for a year, have you?"

"Yes." Thought it was time for her to ask something, Leona raised her questions, "What was this place? And you said that was…The Book of Nod?"

"The Book of Nod is not a book. It's memories, memories of our Father Cain and the founders of clans—the 13 Antediluvians—marked on relics in the writing of Cain. They can only be read by Kindred." Anastacia carried on, full of passions on this subject, "Our ancestors were wise. They predicted the rise of mankind and the need to hide our nature by then, so they chose to write down our history in a way that Kin couldn't know…but alas, the writing of Cain—this delicate art, was lost. We were too absorbed in our war, and abandoned the ancient wisdom."

"And you are studying it." Leona started to make sense of what's going on, though the way Anastacia said things was very…old-fashioned and implicit, in a vampiric way.

"Yes, I'm trying to remaster this skill, and use it to record our modern nights. At this stage all I can do is to just copy the Book of Nod, but it is already a huge progress." She fumbled to grasp an old and rusted dagger on her desk, presented it in front of Leona, "This is my second work, containing the memories of how Cain created our kind…and how the 13 Antediluvians betrayed him, just like Uriel's curse foretold."

Staring at the dagger and Anastacia's frightening eyes, Leona felt even more disturbed and couldn't help bring up the subject: "What happened to your eyes?"

The excitement on Anastacia's face fainted on the question. She touched her eyes with tremulous fingers, then calmed herself down quickly, gave Leona a pretty short and vague answer. She said:

"Everything has a price."

But Leona could partly guess what it meant. She didn't know what to say.

"How's Garrett, by the way?" So Anastacia broke the silence, "What's he up to these days?"

It was Leona's turn to face an unpleasant question. She made a sigh in an apologetic tune: "I'm sorry, Anastacia, he is…dead."

Leona tried to go on and explained that how Garrett died because he Embraced her, but she stopped when she found out that Anastacia seemed practically not interested in hearing any reason behind this. This Italian woman just sat there on the desk, facing the mess on the carpet with her shaking breath—she was obviously sad and distressed about her Childe's death, of course, but somehow…she seemed already expecting this, for there was a blazing regret on her face.

"We shouldn't have ever gone to London." Anastacia muttered bitterly, "He must have continued searching…I told him so many times no to meddle with anything political."

Leona couldn't believe what she heard.

"What?" She grabbed Anastacia's shoulders, "What happened in London?"

Did she mean that…Garrett's death was because of something else?

"It doesn't matter now." Compared to Leona's agitation, Anastacia returned to her composure surprisingly quickly.

"Of course it matters…"

"Listen!" Anastacia held Leona's face firmly with her both hands, "Don't you understand? None of us matters in this never-ending curse, because it was written since the very start! We chose to be the outcasts of God's creations, so God damned us to fight and die for his entertainment, do you think one unlife matters, when the bodies of Kindred deceased in this Jyhad have piled up higher than the greatest mountain!? Me, Garrett, or you!?"

Leona couldn't find anything to say. She looked at her, her hysteria, her hatred for her own species, wondered: how long this woman had to live, to turn into such… hopelessness?

Noticing that she had scared Leona, Anastacia softened her face and reasoned with her:"The only thing meaningful that we can do, is to write down the actual history, debunk the lies of those power players and leave our Childes a chance to redeem themselves with truths in their hands…You have to continue my work!"

"No."

Leona stepped back, looking at this elder vampire in fear, gave her answer immediately.

"What?" Seeming to find Leona's defiling intolerable, Anastacia suddenly tore down her mask of a kind tutor, which just made her look more demonic, "I am your Sire's Sire, how dare you deny my command of you!"

The concinnous melody of the Waltz being played became out of tune, like a piece of beautiful satin being twisted brutally by a maddening force. Now, the architectural, repeating structure of An der schönen blauen Donau was no more euphonious, it was...a nightmarish cycle.

"No!"

Leona insisted on her response while withdrawing to the door, but it was dead-locked, even with her supernatural strength she couldn't broke it open, and Anastacia just strolled closer:

"You shall do what I ask."

But Leona just couldn't accept it—Anastacia's request, and more. She couldn't accept this woman to be her future: her despair, her indifference, her arrogance. No. She didn't want that, not after everything she had been through, and the fights she knew she would have to survive in the coming nights.

There have to be some other way…there have to.

"No. I came to this world to be by the side of the person I cherish, no matter how meaningless you picture our life…or unlife is," Leona gripped her knife, but still tried to talk to Anastacia, "So I could not abandon him or myself for your cause. I'm sorry, Anastacia, just let me go."

"I won't let you go." But it looked like Anastacia had lost all her rationality, "If you are unwilling…then fair enough, I will do this myself. I will force this piece of my soul into your body, and took control of it to fulfill my purpose, you feeble Childe!"

What…she's going to…possess her? Is that what she meant?

Before Leona could realize what was going on, floods of rotten, blackened blood gushed out of the eyes, ears, nose and mouth of Anastacia, covering every bit of her body in a thick, sticky and crimson coating, turning her into a frenzied warrior made of blood. Now Leona couldn't even discern what Anastacia's head looked like, for it was now merely a bloody, dripping ball with a big, black orifice on the surface.

"Raagr…"

A beastly growl came from deep inside that mouth-like hole, like the boiling wind from the crater of an active volcano. Leona knew, there was nothing left in there that was Anastacia anymore.

This is going to get very ugly. Leona knew. If she can be touched in this space...she can be hurt, too.

Even be killed.


	12. An der Schönen Roten Donau

It was the first time Leona facing a monster like this, so she did exactly what she was told during the training—waited for the enemy to attack, and observed how it fought. She kept on dodging for quite a while, finding this red berserker seemed to know only melee battle, and although it was incredibly fast and strong even for her, it got angry easily.

Then…at least making a strike won't be too hard.

So she evaded another uppercut, grabbed Anastacia's dagger on the desk, using it to attack the blood warrior and intentionally miss it. Just like she expected, seeing Leona wielding the proud work of its so rudely agitated this partly human beast, and it just jumped on Leona with no tactics, leaving its abdomen open right in front of her.

Now is the chance.

Leona squatted and thrust her blade into its chest, sliced it down all the way to its belly so easily like she was cutting through cheese. The monster fell down from the side, letting out a roar in pain, and Leona seized the chance to throw the two knives in her hands: one going for the head, and the other aimed at the heart.

These two places were supposed to be the weaknesses of most life forms, and they were both hit in an expert precision. Leona stepped back, watching how this creature reacted, couldn't believe she just achieved something like that so skilfully.

It lied on the ground quietly for a few seconds, which almost fooled Leona into believing that she'd succeeded, but immediately this blood warrior held itself up with its shaking limbs, screamed and dashed towards her like a lightning, as if those wounds didn't really damage it…simply enraged it even more.

This made it much worse for Leona, because she just didn't know what else she could do. She panicked. She threw up the desk to hinder its path, and pulled her blade back out from its head, kept battling, hurting it, but all the cuts on its liquified skin would just recover within seconds, while the power of its fists were so fierce that Leona could literally feel it shattering her ribs—even just a small mistake she made when avoiding, would leave a injury so hard to heal, while all the attacks she managed were merely scratches for this terrifying creature.

At first, Leona was still able to hold her stand and react in time to all its moves, but as all her efforts turning out to be useless, her stamina was finally unable to catch up. Her body started to slow down, her judgement was smudged, and she could barely find a chance to drink the blood bag to speed up her recovery.

It was like it's inevitable. A smash to chin caught her off guard, turning her world upside down. Leona felt like her jaw was fractured, and the buzzing in her quaking brain was numbing her way of thinking. In her sight tainted by her own blood, she saw the monster approaching, with that black hole on its face forming a shape of crescent.

It was a smile. It was enjoying it.

The crimson berserker gripped Leona's throat, lifted her up and walked towards the window, allowing moonlight to shine on her, watching the scarlet lush of her blood turn into glossy nigritude, as if it was appreciating its work.

And it threw her out of the window. 

Leona fell down on the street, right by the side of the river. She felt like her organs were totally scrambled. For this degree of damage, if she had been a human, she would have died several times, but at the corners of her body, something so weak and helpless was still trying to repairing and fixing, patching her up, and that was the only barrier between her and death.

However soon, she would wish she had died.

As if defeating her wasn't enough, the monster jumped out from the building, too, with Leona's knife and its dagger in its hands. It crouched by Leona's side, raised the blades up, targeted them at her shoulders in a deliberately slow speed, like it wanted her to watch the process.

It stabbed them into her clavicles, and twisted the knives in her flesh.

Leona screamed, and the beast laughed in satisfaction, with its face closing in, and its mouth widened, then it bit her neck.

But the pain was already too unbearable, and Leona was losing her strength even to make a sound. Little by little, she couldn't feel anything, and her eyes were blurred by a dizzy, warm light.

Her body shrank out of the blue, as if the time was rewound, turning her into a small, young little girl. She stood there, startled, wearing a baby blue nightdress, surrounded her tiny arms around a big guy who was kneeling down, hugging her. 

She must have been hallucinating. Leona thought.

Chinese girls grew slower than the white ones in general, and the bumpy life she had didn't really provide her with all the nutrition, so Leona felt her mini-world was totally enclosed by this man—his cheek on her hair, his breath on her neck, his head heavy on her shoulder, and the way he held her so tight that she couldn't make a move.

It was when she was 16. Now Leona remembered. They were found and she was at home, unaware of the danger, so Zack ran back to warn her, and said his goodbye.

She could smell gunpowder and blood on his black coat. Realizing it was the final farewell, Leona's lips were pale and shivering, and she hugged him even tighter, grabbing his collar so forcefully as if she was tearing it down, with a string of tears hanging on and dropping from her eyelashes.

"I'm sorry." Zack was whispering.

He didn't need to apologize at all—he had done everything that she could ever hope for and more. She should be the one who said this.

Leona never treasured her own life. She grew up to never value herself more than a wild animal, because no one ever did. Until he gave her meaning.

She was the proof, the witness of him. Everyone else thought him to be a machine, a tool, a weapon, a mean to an end who had no heart, so they could use him to do whatever they want. And she proved them wrong. If there were ever going to be a judgement day, she would stand for him in the trial of angels, and tell them how she became a proper human because of this killer in their eyes.

He was the man…who laid the foundation of everything that's beautiful in her. And now he was about to die, so that she could live.

Zack released her, looked at her properly for one last time, wiped the blood on her face she got from him, and said:

"Run, Leona, and live. Live a good life."

Those were his last words.

Yes. She would. Leona made him a promise. From that moment, this life of hers had a meaning. She could not die. If she died, then no one in this world would be alive to remember him as his true self, and his death, his sacrifice…would just be another joke made by God's vulgar sense of humour.

And she wouldn't allow it. This is a promise too important to betray.

So live, then. Run and live.

A stream of heat rose from deep inside her, and broke out from her shoulder, where Zack used to rest his weary head on, like spouting lava. Leona opened her eyes, stood up, took out the last bag of blood she had, torn it open and drank it.

That heat she felt, was the scarlet threads coming out of her back—the threads that also marked the curse on Cain—with blood flowing and shapeshifting around them, forming into a lonely, beautiful wing, and on the tip of the wing, was the blood warrior skewed by the red strings through its mouth. It was frozen, as if refusing to accept what Leona just did was true.

But it was true. Leona looked at this creature as if it was already a corpse, and started to use her wing to toss and smash it on the ground repeatedly, right to the left, left to the right, again and again. Her body was still weak, but strangely steady, even when its blood was spat onto her eyes and into her nose, she didn't ever blink.

Until there was nothing left but a pile of paste mixed by blood, meat and bone fragments beneath her feet, until she finally ran out of all of her strength, Leona passed out, and fell back down into the Danube.

Then her body dropped out of the painting, leaving a pool of blood under the portrait of Cain. The guard downstairs was spooked by this loud thud, pulled out his gun and rushed up here, but when he made it to the painting, Leona was already not alone—A man in a wolf-face mask and a leather coat was carrying her in his arms.

He gazed straight at the guard with his red, radiant right eye, and commanded this mortal in an undeniable tone:

"Clean up and get everything back to normal, then forget you ever see us."

After that, he took Leona and walked to the window, jumped out and disappeared into the night.


	13. Reunion

Ulysses couldn't believe he was doing this. It was dangerous for both of them, and maybe she didn't know it was him, so there could be nothing to do with him about her being a Kindred…thus exposing himself to her like this would be totally reckless. He used a mask after that night, that should have been a remedy enough.

Eventually, he still decided to come and look for her, and he was so glad that he did. He couldn't imagine the consequences if he hadn't been there at the gallery.

He jumped across several roofs, carrying Leona, until he found a safe, empty storage place and put her in there. He was hesitant about whether to just leave her here or not, but when the image of those bruises and blood on her face was projected into his eyes, he just couldn't help but grit in wrath.

Camarilla bureaucrats. How could they put a new-born Childe…put her through this? And then he started to blame Leona for a little, couldn't understand why she did this to herself. Didn't she know this was no child play, not some dark romance in TV shows? Ulysses stood at the entrance of this warehouse, wrestling with his mind, like a father that was both hurting and angry for his battered daughter, who didn't listen to him and ran away with bad guys.

But all these conflicting thoughts stopped when he heard coughs behind him. She was awake. Ulysses glanced back, seeing her open her eyes and turn her head towards him, as if trying to make out who he was.

He realized his one last chance of leaving was gone. Now he couldn't walk away, not with her watching him like this.

Ulysses calmed himself down, forced his face back to his usual coldness, and returned to Leona's side. He kneeled, thought for a while, then sat down on the ground and helped her up with his arms, took out all the blood bags he had on him, bit one open and put it beside her mouth.

But Leona wasn't interested in food even for one bit. She raised her arm, reached to his mask and touch the edge of it, with her eyes fixed on his face. Ulysses knew she was trying to take his mask down, but she was so weak that she couldn't even grip her fingers properly, so her attempts ended up soft strokes across the wolf face, leaving an trail of red.

He tried to ignore Leona's doing and directly dump the blood into her lips, but she didn't swallow it, just kept putting her fingers back on his mask. She had always been a stubborn girl.

So Ulysses gave in, sighed and took off his mask himself. He was now Zack again.

She already knew. If she knew…then it was all his fault.

"Drink." He said, again squeezed the blood in between her teeth. His voice was still chilly just as always, but somehow gentle and comforting, like the ice used on swollen skin.

Leona froze for a moment, looking at his face with her lips shaking, as if she was trying to say something. But probably because the excessive hunger and tiredness, she didn't react further, just kept her head down, took that bag of blood into her own hands, and sucked it up, little by little. Her fingers sank deep into the plastic package, and deeper into her palms. Finally, she couldn't hold it anymore.

She sobbed. First it was merely the convulsive breath and the snivels in and out through her nose, then the whimper came, too, from her throat, and louder and louder, until it was totally uncontrollable, with tears all over her face, like a kid who felt wronged about the critics she was receiving.

"I'm…I'm sorry…I'm so sorry Zack…" Leona curled up her body, kept wiping her eyes messily with her sleeves, couldn't even speak a complete sentence, "What have I done…what have I done…"

Simply unable to bear and deal with her crying, not knowing what to do, Zack tried to help her cleared up those tears, but she just pushed him away, tried to tidy herself up repeatedly and failed. All those maturity, tolerance and composure she put up before others for so long crushed in an instant, because those defences were just that fragile in front of him.

"I'm not blaming you." So he said. How could he?

But Leona meant it. Without the need to convince herself to accept anything right now, she finally realized what she gave up and what she got in return—She could have just thought it was an illusion she saw in Chicago that night, left it, moved on, got the promotions she was due, saved the money to buy a big house, then Zack would just be a treasured memory, and if…she ever had her own family, he could also be a story she shared.

Instead, she had this. They were both now stuck in this…incubus.

The notion of this cruel reality calmed her down, like a bucket of cold water right on her face. She took a few breaths, finished her drink and picked up another bag, gaining her rationality back, and asked: "How did you…become this?"

Seeing her get some strength and no longer need his support, Zack sat straight, pondered for a second and replied: "After sending you away, I…waited for them at the house. I took them all down so that no one came after you, but I was dying, too…then somehow she found me before I was totally out."

"Your Sire?"

"Yes. Reverence Lucia, leader of Lasombra clan in America." Zack sneered, finding the appellation "Reverence" quite an irony, "She just turned me without asking, and before I realized it was done. I didn't have a choice. She said she need a professional."

Leona's face darkened. That's what they all said when they approached him. So she looked up at him, went to her topic directly:

"How do you get out of the Sabbats?" She assumed that since it was an organization—based on what others told her—there would always be a way to leave it.

But Zack laughed upon her question, bitterly: "You think it would be that easy? They've been doing this for forever, and they have a way to make sure you won't betray them…The Reverence feeds me her blood every month and blood-bounds me like a ghoul, even if I don't want to take it, she will just force me. That's what this blood-bound's for."

"Then we run." Leona persisted.

"We tried to run before, remember? And we failed." Zack looked at the dying light of hope in Leona's eyes, almost felt guilty of telling her this, "If we couldn't even outrun humans, how are we supposed to outrun these…monsters?"

But this was the cold fact, Leona knew that. For seven years Zack must have tried everything he could, more than Leona could imagine. Came to think of it, she didn't even know she could survive that long like he did.

Then…that was it? She did all this for…nothing?

No. No way.

"I will find a way…" Leona said, but even she couldn't believe herself.

"Stop. Stop thinking about saving me, think about how to survive." Zack held her head to let her face him, "Now that you are already here, there's no reversing for this vampire thing, so just pass this test, go back to your clan, find a job and some allies, but don't get into troubles and don't stand out, do you understand?"

To his surprise, Leona wasn't really paying attention. She just stared at him, and tears in her eyes have stopped dropping out, for she just realized she forgot one very important thing, and she smiled:

"Nothing." She shook her head, "It's just…nice to see you again."

Even with his bloody eyes and pale skin, he's still that same guy, so eager to lecture her about what to do and full of worries. When he did that, the little Leona would sometimes get impatient, replied "Yes mom" and walked away, and Zack would exactly hold her face like right now to force her to listen. That was the only way to keep that bullheaded little girl listening.

Zack was a bit startled at first, then he thought of the same thing. He smiled, too, though not as natural as Leona's—hadn't smiled like that for seven years, he felt very…out of practice.

"God, you've grown." And he exclaimed.

They both laughed a little, then quickly the storage house went back to silence again. Zack stood up, strolled back to the entrance and paused, said:

"Don't die, I don't want to lose my family again…and the name now is Ulysses."

Putting back that silver face of wolf, Ulysses walked out of the door, and before long, Mercurio drove his car here by tracking Leona's cell phone signal. He walked into and was astonished at the damages to her body—though he was already looking at her much better shape, gasped and asked: "What the hell happened?"

He should have asked the tech guy to stream the real footage onto his laptop, too, when he paid him to rewind the security cameras. Mercurio regretted a little bit. Otherwise he could have come sooner and knew what happened…he just didn't expect it to be that bad.

"Hell happened." Leona stood up, "There was some…angry spirit in that painting. I killed it, and I needed some rest, so I came here."

"Really? Did you destroy the painting, then? Did the guard notice…"

"No…it all sort of happened inside the painting, so there was no fight in the gallery, and no, I didn't destroy it since it's already safe without the spirit—in that way it's better, I think, people won't notice anything happened."

"Then how did you…"

"I'm tired." Leona stumbled out of the warehouse, leaned on his car, gave him a weak, heart-rending smile, "Can we talk about this tomorrow night?"

Mercurio didn't question her further, just helped her onto the front seat and took her away. This was a quite fancy, well-maintained Alfa Romeo 8C Competizione he was driving, and Leona's blood was all over the interior, but he didn't complain, just asked if she needed some patch-up, only to find out she was fast asleep, and literally carried Leona back to her haven in her dream.

She was having a really weird dream.


	14. Session in South Kensington, London, 1708

"It was a very brave thing you did, Leona, defying Anastacia like that…Guess that's why I was so sure you are the one at the first sight."

The first thing Garrett did in Leona's dream, was to offer her acknowledgement.

Last second, she remembered herself falling asleep in Mercurio's sports car, and now she was standing under a cloudless, sapphire sky, safe and sound in day light, facing the entrance of a beautiful rustic mansion with Garrett at her side, wearing a summer outfit typically seen on Victorian gentlemen. Behind them, was a fairly mowed lawn and a fountain with blooming flower bed in the middle.

She realized this was the house where she was embraced…no, to be more precise, these two estates looked exactly the same.

"I must be dreaming…" Leona murmured, "Where are we?"

"My ancestral residence in London, where I was born. I built the one in Beverly Hills based on my memory of it." Garrett stepped onto the porch and pushed the front door opened, "Why don't you let me show you around? Last time we were too…hasty to do a proper tour."

And so they walked in. Instead of the dark ritual preparations Leona remembered, she saw a lovely, well-lighted hall with impressionistic, decorative oil paintings on the wall and a wonderful collection of china vases in the cabinet, and the smell of lilies was in the air, bringing the joyful scent of nature. Apparently, in his human life, Garrett was born with quite a status.

"Of all people…I dream about you." Still, with the horrific image of Garrett's head being separated on her mind, Leona felt a little bit…uncomfortable seeing dead come back to life like this.

"Sire and Childe are known to be…tightly connected, both mentally and in bloodline. Since I'm already dead, I suppose…this is how we are connected now."

"In dreams?"

"More like…in subconscious—or souls, in a more abstract way of speaking, and it manifests in dreams."

As if talking to Garrett gave her a feeling of everything hadn't gone too far—like it already had—Leona got back to her old self in front of her Sire, or to be specific, her old self she presented in those night therapies with Garrett: sharp, and cleverly humorous.

"Well, at least I still get sessions with my psychiatrist…for free." She joked.

Garrett laughed: "Indeed."

They walked pass the dining hall and living room, and Leona marveled at the details recreated in this dream mansion: the teapot and cups that were giving out warm fragrance, burning woods in the fireplace, scattered pillows on the carpet and sofa, like…someone was still living there a moment ago.

"I was the third-born in the family, quite lucky if you asked. My two big brothers were both assigned with responsibilities—to become new nobles with both title and wealth, and to breed a legitimate heir…they were secretly fighting over every penny."As they proceeded upstairs, Garrett was indulging in his memories, "But no one expected anything from me, so I got the freedom to go to college, teach in a foreign university…and meet Anastacia afterwards."

Upon that name, Garrett's expression darkened a little. Leona had a wry smile on her face, thinking about how sarcastic the fate of them three played out to be: "I'm sorry Garrett, I have to kill her…now you both died because of me."

"Don't feel sorry about that, what you saw was not her—at least not all of her. She died long before that, killed by one of those lethal…traps when we were exploring an ancient site." Garrett patted Leona's shoulder and explained, "And I felt those changes in her, too…being too excluded by Kindred society and too absorbed in pursuing knowledge, she lost her grasp of humanity."

But the more he explained, more confused Leona got. With so many questions piling in her chest, she had to silently reflect for minutes to pick out the one question she had to ask—the one that could only be answered by Garrett:

"Why?"

It was only one word, but Garrett clearly knew what she was asking:

Why, did he do all this and…get himself killed? To what end?

So Garrett answered the same thing his Sire gave to Leona: "It doesn't matter."

"No. Don't you use that sentence on me, too! I deserved to know the truth!" Leona was genuinely angry and stopped following him in the corridor, "For you it's so easy to flush it away because you are already dead, but I'm the one who lived to see this! And all those…versions of why you died I've heard from all those people…"

"Then don't you think it's time I have a saying in my own death?" Garrett said, stood in front of a family portrait, watching the face of the human, youthful him under the painter's strokes, "I have every reason to die, for others: I violated their interests, I knew too much, I stepped on their toes, I went against the traditions, or they simply didn't like me—but those were for them.

"I wanted to die, Leona, that's my way of saying no to Anastacia…and Kindred like her. I wasn't so vigilant like you, identifying the…dangerous truth behind the regal quest of my Sire on first sight, I was just a hot-blooded young man, blinded by the ideal of finally having an endless lifetime to know everything about this endless universe…and by the time I realized, it was already too late. I knew, sooner or later, if I played by the rules and survived like others, I would become just like Anastacia—using my knowledge as a vengeance against everyone who wronged us, and a castle that made ourselves feel good about watching our Kindred waring against each other condescendingly, which was the total opposite of my original intention.

"I started learning because I loved this world, with the pure curiosity of a new-born child…not out of hatred and pride. When I realized I couldn't sustain this against that darkness in our world, I…I panicked, Leona. I was so scared. I guess that's what you humans call 'existential crisis', isn't it?"

Garrett turned around to look at her, grinned at this ridiculous self-diagnosis. Leona noticed his eyes becoming foggy and watery, and realized those were tears he tried to contain—he didn't want to lose control of himself in front of his Childe.

Leona didn't know what to say. She couldn't accuse him for fearing repeating the path of Anastacia, after witnessing what she had become. However still, that didn't justify everything:

"But why me?" She asked, "why getting me involved?"

And her question aroused that guilt on Garrett's face. He remained quiet for a while, and replied: "I will have to call it an old, dying man's eagerness of leaving inheritance behind, then…and you are the one I put my faith in."

"Your faith in what?"

"In you…breaking this endless cycle of tragedy."

He didn't say anything more.

"So that's why you…you lied and kept me in the dark about the big dangers to just make sure…what? I would…be willing to be embraced?" Leona's voice started quavering.

"Yes…I know I'm not a good guardian of you, Leona, not like Zack." Garrett sighed in shame, "So don't feel sorry and responsible for my death…I'm the one who did this to myself…and to you, too."

It's still not right…something still doesn't feel right. A more rational part of Leona observed that Garrett was still hiding something, but she didn't have the energy to care about it at the moment—right now, she was overwhelmed by emotions.

"That's just…so…unfair…" She said, with her head hanging down, in the voice of nearly whimper.

Maybe it was the feelings too strong for her to handle, or maybe it was almost time for her to wake up from this strange dream, Leona suddenly felt a strong lassitude burdening her body and mind, stumbled and almost fell if Garrett didn't hold her arms in time.

"What happened?" Lying on Garrett's chest, panting, Leona asked in an extremely debilitated voice.

"You are talking to a part of me left in you through the Embrace, so it's not a natural dream, and it will be exhausting to your mentality. Come, let's get you to someplace to rest."

While telling her what was going on, Garrett took her to a master bedroom, lay her down in the luxurious silk beddings, stroking her forehead and hair gently and said:

"Before you wake up, as your psychiatrist, I have an advice to give to help you adapt better in this new…unlife." He paused and bowed down, "Do a real human hunt for blood, don't just drink the bags."

"Why?"

Leona couldn't understand. She survived perfectly on blood bags, and she hadn't got the impression that Garrett was the bloodthirsty type that took pleasure in hurting innocent lives.

"If you rely too much on…packaged food, it would be very easy to lie to yourself that you are not a monster. Like I told you, there's a constant battle between humanity and beast inside us, so to battle the beast…you have to face it first."

Finishing this sentence, he stood up, looking at Leona who was already half-conscious, and started to recite a poem out of the blue:

"Do not go gentle into that good night,  
Old age should burn and rave at close of day,  
Rage, rage against the dying of the light…"

It was Dylan Thomas' work, guiding her back to sleep like a peaceful lullaby. When Leona woke up again, she was back in her haven, 7 p.m. at another Saturday night, and the first thing she heard was her phone ringing for a notification. She unlocked it, the latest one she saw was from Mercurio, with a "Rise and shine" and a string of emoticons of moon and star behind, and the second one was an email arrived last night, written in a much more professional fashion. It was from the Prince:

To Leona:

Congratulations on your accomplishment on the test, I've read Mercurio's report and he spoke quite highly of you, and both me and Regent Strauss are looking forward to your membership in Camarilla, North America. Please notify us and get to LaCroix Group Tower after you recover.

S. LaCroix

After lying in bed for a while, staring at the bug buzzing around the light above her, Leona didn't delay further, picked up the phone and called Mercurio:

"Merc, I'm ready. Let's go to the LaCroix building."


	15. Welcome Aboard

Feeling compelled to dress herself up, Leona put up a cheesy but at least passable woman suit from her existing closet, and hurried downstairs to get into Mercurio's car—it was rather kind of him to spare all "suspicious details" in the report for her, and offered to pick her up.

"You look like my secretary." Mercurio glanced at her basic skirt and stockings, commented, "And a first-day-on-my-job one."

Assuming he was talking about the outfit being ill-fitting and of poor quality, Leona replied: "It's not like I could afford a proper one, and walking into the head office of LaCroix Group in a punky hoodie will only attract more attentions…"

"That's not what I mean." Starting the car and turning the wheels, Mercurio smirked and his tone became more…clandestine, "I mean my secretary in the secretary play."

Taking some time for Leona to understand what he was saying, and she almost threw him out if it weren't for him being the driver, and Prince's request of his presence there also.

"Shut up…horndog." 

Leona's face twitched, trying for quite a while to find a non-swearing word that could express her anger properly, only to squeeze out a noun that even she herself found weird. Ugh…just when she thought this guy wasn't just un seduttore civettuolo who played among the ladies. She scoffed so inwardly.

"Oh there's no need to be that harsh, I'm simply complimenting you…"

"That is NOT a compliment…"

They had a heated discussion about the fine line between praising women's beauty and objectifying them, which melted her slight nervousness and killed the time on the road quite effectively—in a blink, they've already arrived at their destination.

Stepping again onto this parking lot, Leona felt like it had been forever since the last time she was here. The damages of that alleged "terrorist attack" had been cleaned up and repaired quickly throughout the week, and the employees would be able to go back to work after the weekend.

The only thing that could prove the attack ever existed, was the memories of the Kindred who were there…like her.

They arrived at a hidden entrance on the exterior wall under a seemingly normal security camera, gaining the access by showing their faces to the lens, and entered into an elevator that went straight up to the secret penthouse on the top of this office building—the haven of Prince Sebastian LaCroix.

Walking out of the fully-sealed, coffin-like lift, both Leona and Mercurio spent some time adjusting their eyes for the dazzling beaming of interior—it was not a penthouse they were visiting, but a small, rococo palace built on the top of the tower: the grand, crystal chandelier, the marble statues, the indoor botanical garden, the roses on the wallpaper embroidered with golden threads, and the carpet so soft like cloud that it almost felt guilty to place feet on them…if Leona didn't know better, she would think she was teleported into the Louvre of old days.

"God…I wonder how they sleep in this shiny place." Mercurio exclaimed in a light voice, "With eye masks?"

Over there Veronica was waiting for them in a vintage creamy dress, with her hair down all the way to her waist, glittering a beautiful golden lush. She introduced Leona into the study room, where the Prince and Regent Strauss were already discussing something in there, but they immediately stopped when the visitors came. While Strauss didn't say anything, simply nodded and gave a polite but cold smile, Prince LaCroix stood up and greeted:

"Glad to see you again, Leona, and you too, Mercurio." Then he went directly into the topic, "We just need to…confirm certain details in the process with you."

And so the interrogation began—that was how Leona viewed it. She already knew her saying of this event back and forward, and this saying was built on the majority of the truth, except for the part about the Book of Nod, that she actually knew the identity of this angry spirit, and Zack…or she probably should now think of him as Ulysses. In fact, she believed it would be more convincing to say she didn't know what was the nature of the spirit inside: because she was a newbie to this whole world, after all, it couldn't be more common if she knew nothing.

However, she found it very funny to observe the Prince and the Regent in the process. Regent Strauss didn't ever speak and let LaCroix handle the whole thing, but Leona knew he wasn't absent-minded—in fact, knowing the "task" of keeping the secret at hand, she could feel the invisible pressure he brought upon her, even though he acted just like a simple listener, looking at the goblet he was swirling, seeming only interested in appreciating the bouquet of the blood in there.

While at the same time, Prince LaCroix presented himself very friendly with an open and equal posture, adding some compliments between the questions, and kept coming up with phrases like "Don't worry, we are not here to judge you" and "Feel free to say anything", as if trying to diminish the Regent's influence on her as much as possible.

If them Tremere were known to be "discreet", then the Prince probably was wanting to at least make an attempt to pry something out of her, and for that purpose, it might be better if he didn't ask the Regent to be here at all…but then, since she belonged to this clan and Strauss indeed designed the test in the first place, it was only natural he being here to hear her report.

Or maybe the Regent was here for some other issues, too—since he was already talking with Prince LaCroix earlier. Leona couldn't be sure. Anyway, she just found it almost amusing to see how two power players who seemed to cooperate closely were actually contesting even on a small matter like hers.

"Just one more question…" the Prince leaned forward as he was saying, "How exactly did you defeat that blood spirit in close combat? Based on what you told us, it was very swift, strong and of fast healing speed, then how did you overpower it?"

And Regent Strauss finally stopped his toying with the drink, looked up at Leona, too. The stares of these two superiors gave Leona shivers in her bones, but she tried to keep calm and answered honestly—she wouldn't dare to make up any lies about the combat and supernatural stuff, because these two clearly knew more about this than she did, and anything phony would be easily recognized:

"Well to be frank I was desperate: 9mm rounds obviously wouldn't work, knife wounds recovered too quickly on it, and I was running out of strength…but all of a sudden there were these…red strings wrapped in blood coming out of me…"

Leona paused, for she could see the eyes of both Regent and Prince widen when she came to the last sentence.

"Do you mean…" the Prince spoke first, appearing authoritative and pushy for the first time tonight, "that you used Thaumaturgy?"

Totally lost and unable to reply, Leona looked at Regent Strauss, while the latter suddenly just stood up and bowed to the Prince: "I'm sorry, Prince LaCroix, but you will have to excuse us—this young Neonate has to prepare herself and move into the Chantry tonight."

Upon these words, Leona could nearly see the dissatisfaction on the face of the Prince. But soon, he hid his reluctance and granted the permission for them to leave:

"…Very well, then, I won't delay you further." Then he gave a smile to Leona, "Good evening, Neonate, I'm sure we shall meet again soon."

With huge confusion and disturbance in her heart, Leona followed Regent Strauss out in a hurry, didn't even have the chance to say a proper farewell to Mercurio and Veronica, who were waiting and chatting outside of the study room.

"Come. Sebastian didn't call you here for nothing."

Watching the two Tremere vampires disappear behind the closing elevator door, Veronica said, beckoned Mercurio to enter the room with her hand. Now that there were only three of them in the study, the Prince was finally feeling safe enough to take off his diplomatic mask:

"Ahh…Tremeres. They are probably the only people who can look at the greater picture like we do, but…such an ordeal to cope with."

"I'd say the girl is just fine. She's handling everything well, considering how she got into our world…" Mercurio shrugged, "Which is kind of scary, come to think of it. I know rising up from an orphan to a professional working for the best in the business is hard, but…sometimes she reacts like a disciplined…soldier to me."

"Did you check on her background details?"

"Yeah, nothing wrong if you just look at the papers. Moved to United States in 2008, parents died in house fire when she was 14, went homeless for two years and got picked up by a social worker, continued education under a direct sponsorship from a philanthropist…all records checked. Phew, what a life she had."

After stating these facts in Leona's past, Mercurio shook his head, and Veronica let out a long, sympathetic sigh, whereas the Prince pondered over for a while like he was making a decision, and said: "I see. Send me those files after this, and…think you have some spare time, Mercurio?"

"What do you need?"

"Keep an eye on her. It wouldn't be appropriate for me to directly supervise her, since now she's a formal member of the Tremere Pyramid, but I declared my duty on her in the trial, too, so Strauss won't be against it if I send an agent to help her." Prince LaCroix stood up, paced around a little and carried on, "Just tell them you are there to partner her in jobs and give some help. A new-born Tremere who can wield Thaumaturgy without any previous tutorial is…a valuable asset, but I want to be sure she's clean."

"Understood. Should work for my schedule." The ghoul saluted freely, "And keep tapping on Sabbats, too?"

"Definitely. I want to know what they are…scheming."

After receiving all the instructions, Mercurio took off, leaving the two LaCroixs alone in this penthouse. They approached the private area of their haven and walked into a sitting room, get to enjoy some idleness and call it a night at last. Veronica helped the Prince take off his suit jacket and his scepter, put them back onto the clothes stand and tried to start a topic of leisure, but when she turned around and looked at Sebastian, she knew she wouldn't have his attention: He was on the sofa, still looking at the fireplace and thinking.

But at least at this moment, he looked only like a worried man off work, instead of the Prince.

"Still not sure about what happened that night." Noticing Veronica was walking towards him, LaCroix started talking, "Strauss came asking about what you saw in the house when Garrett Embraced that Neonate."

"What did you tell him?" Veronica asked, sat beside him.

"Not much…other than it was absolutely not a ritual for Embrace—you don't need a ritual to Embrace."

"Then…what did he tell you?"

"Not much, other than it was absolutely not a ritual for Embrace."

They both chuckled upon this sarcastic repeat. "You two will never entertain each other a genuine conversation before the world ends." Veronica joked.

"Ha, before the world ends, indeed."

Seeing Sebastian finally relax himself, Veronica held his hand with their fingers crossed, and there was a hint of consolation in her smile, but something quickly clouded her face with sadness.

"What's the matter?" So Sebastian asked.

"I just hope…it's really the last time I have to do this—to take the Sire of another Childe away to…"

"You know we have no choice, I…have no choice. This is the only way to protect that secret…and for you to survive safely." He interrupted Veronica's sorrowful words, "Don't blame yourself, their lives are on me—I'm the one who made the call…focus on the sarcophagus, if that helps at work."


	16. The Night is Still Young

At the same time, Leona was on the way back to her old haven in Strauss' vehicle—a roomy Mercedes Benz 600 sedan. They were simply heading there to let her pack up some belongings and move to the LA Chantry, where every Tremere in this city gathers, but Strauss clearly was having lots of things on his mind, and went straight down to business with Leona once they got in the car, couldn't even wait until she settled down in the Chantry:

"First, you have my sincere thanks for the favour, Leona—and by the favour I didn't just mean keeping the secret, but completing the test. As you can deduct, your test was much harder than it should be, even for a Tremere standard."

Leona smiled bitterly: "Then I suppose you knew what was in there when you gave me the task."

"Yes. It was a risky move to let you handle this, and unfortunately I had no other choice—I would have appointed a more experienced Kindred on this, but only a direct descendent of Anastacia's bloodline could read her writing and destroy it, and with Garrett gone, it was only you left…"

"Still, you cannot know for sure I would succeed, can you? What if I failed? What are you going to do?"

This question of hers got him. Strauss didn't reply immediately, as if trying to find out a suitable answer for her, but realizing it was simply not possible, he gave it in the hard and real way: "If you failed, Anastacia's will would possess your body, then at least it's out and we can kill it."

Looking at the Regent, Leona found it hard to imagine these heartless words and thoughts were from someone who had the appearance of a young teenage boy…well, it was foolish to judge people's ages from looks in vampire world, wasn't it?

Though she didn't feel angry about Strauss planning to use her like this, partly because she already felt a little numb about it right now, and maybe also she actually appreciated this cold cleverness of his…objectively speaking. She had no option but to admire—what was she going to do otherwise? Swore revenge? Leona got a feeling that this kind of stuff would happen a lot in the future, and she didn't intend to crush herself with a hill of vengeance vows.

"Well, I guess it works." So Leona said, "Anyway, how did Anastacia get…'herself' inside that painting in the first place?"

"She was too obsessed and confident—the writing of Cain demands a much higher seniority in Kindred bloodline than she had: only Cain himself and the 13 Antediluvians have the blood pure and ancient enough to…call upon all Kindred, so to achieve the same effect, she poured parts of her own psyche inside the object." Seeming to pity the efforts of Anastacia, Strauss sighed, "It worked, when she was alive to maintain those writings, but after her death, those…soul fragments of hers started to wither and become twisted. In fact, Garrett was on his path to destroy these objects she left before Embracing you. The painting is the last one."

Quietly listened to Strauss's explanation, adding it to what she had known from Anastacia, Leona began to make sense of the whole thing. With most of her…urgent confusions resolved, she quickly moved her eyes towards what was next: "So what about now? I've got through all the…procedures, there's nothing wrong with me existing in this world now, right?"

"Nothing at all. Now you are a legitimate member of the Tremere Pyramid—that's how we call our hierarchy—and will be taught just like every apprentice, to learn and improve your disciplines…" Halted for a while, Strauss made a strange request, "Now that we've come to this topic, why don't you show me your form?"

"My what?"

Strauss thought about how to educate her on this for a moment, then raised his hand, with a stream of the illuminating, crimson threads sprouting out of his palm peacefully. Then he said:

"You used them to defeat Anastacia, didn't you? These are the Strings of Curse, what God used to curse and restrain Cain, and what Cain was enlightened to turn into the source of our strength—this is the very thing that defines our nature, and empowers our disciplines. For us Tremeres, our strings have a special ability to control blood, thus enable us the art Thaumaturgy, and when calling upon them to use this blood sorcery, the strings always come out of the body in a certain form that is different for every Tremere. I can show you mine right now…"

Then he stopped, concentrated his mind for a second, and merely within a blink, Leona saw those "Strings of Curse" pouring out and form into a scarlet stellar system, expanding to one meter wide, with the red spheres revolving around him like he was the star.

"…Wow…"

Leona couldn't help but acclaim, stunned by this…arcane sight. Though it was not the first time she heard about this blood magic thing, and based on Strauss and LaCroix's reactions, she managed to wield its power also, but she'd never had the time to think about and understand what it truly meant.

Now she got to witness it properly, and it was…marvellous, in an enigmatic, unearthly way.

Strauss withdrew his form quickly, clearly more interested in Leona's: "Show me yours. Don't worry about the car, as far as you don't intend to attack, it won't be damaged."

But how? Little bit unsure of what to do, Leona closed her eyes and pacified her mind like the Regent just did, tried to find that flow of heat she felt when confronting Anastacia…

To her relief, it was quite easy, and that feathery, blood wing of hers spread out from the back of her left shoulder, curled and gently trembled inside the narrow space, like a big bird being trapped in this vehicle.

"Hmmm…Interesting." Strauss gazed at her form, muttered.

However, sensing a concern on his face, Leona took back her wing, feeling somewhat weird to contain something so big inside her torso without it exploding, and asked tentatively: "I…assumed this is a good thing, isn't it? Being able to use this magic before anyone teaches me to."

"I'm afraid that is not completely true."

But they didn't have time to further explain, for Leona had arrived at her old residence. She got off and went upstairs, didn't notice that a piece of her string was secretly "cut off" by one of Strauss', preserved in a tiny drop of blood, and hidden inside the pocket of his coat. She just wanted to finish this as soon as possible.

There weren't many things in her haven that were really hers, so within five minutes Leona was already prepared to leave. The only thing that dragged her down, strangely enough, was the stained dress she wore in her Embrace. 

She sat at the bedside, holding this ragged, beyond-salvage cloth, remembering. It was the first thing she bought on her first day out with Alice—a simple, elegant, all-black A-line dress, from one of those expensive shops she wouldn't think of entering if it weren't for the encouragement of her friend.

Those days were gone: Alice, high-street shopping, life under sunlight. Now she had to restart her life again…from nothing.

Shouldn't be too hard, huh? It's not like she haven't done this before. Leona thought, put the dress back on the bed, grabbed her backpack and shut the door, leaving with Strauss to this new haven they'd arranged for her in the Chantry.

And she had to admit, it was way better than she expected, and definitely beat her old, crappy studio—though named with this religious word, the Chantry was placed in one of those vintage, four-storey buildings that carried on the retro British style near the city centre, and the interior decoration was quite to her liking, too: refined, classic but not excessive, unlike the threatening extravagance she saw in Prince's penthouse. Ceilings were white, and all walls were painted in a dark shade, with a different colour for each floor, be it cobalt blue, olive green or grape purple. For vampiric eyes, these colours were much more comfortable.

On her way she already met one or two Tremere vampires, all greeted her with a courtly nod and a curious look—Apparently, she was famous. And her haven was the apartment on the top floor, right beside Strauss', where Garrett used to live: Considering on other levels there were three flats on each, while it was two over here, her place was much more generous for a fledgling Kindred. Strauss called it "a reward for the favour".

Whatever the reason was. Leona used the key to open her door, somehow expecting to find traces of Garrett's former life here, but she was left to be disappointed: it was all cleaned up. Though the haven itself was a fancy, wine-red luxury suite, even equipped with a black-and-white bar table made with marble in the dining room, and a ebony shelf for spirits, none of which she could complain about.

The only thing here that could be counted as Garrett's, was the framed sketches on the wall of sceneries in all major European cities, for they had his signatures in the corners. One of them was actually a front view of his ancestral house.

That reminded her of his "therapeutic advice".

So the next evening, in which Strauss had granted her freedom for arrangements, Leona did as her Sire told her. She went out on a hunt.

Certainly she readied herself for quite a long time before action, like a girl who was about to went on for her first date. She deliberately starved herself, put on a full makeup—which she seldom did even for formal occasions, chose a seductive gown with a long split and a deep V-neck, and even practiced her smile. Her fellow Tremere vampires questioned why she put in so many efforts for a prey. To be honest, she didn't even know that herself.

Leona started with several meat-market night clubs, where the humans were supposed to be much easier to be tempted, but just like in human life, she never liked this kind of places. There were plenty of men who offered themselves, but…maybe it was the vampire senses, the crowds on dance floors were just too much to bear for her: she could hear all of their breaths and heartbeats, smell all of their sweat and fragrances, and their moves…even if they weren't dancing, their bodies were still so…vibrating for her, vibrating and bursting of energy and life.

She couldn't even think. So she left, wandered on the street for quite some time, and popped into a nicer, quieter piano bar. There was this one young bartender here who seemed really nice and somewhat into her, sensing her loneliness and lost feelings, chatted her up, told her those funny stories behind the cocktails, even offered her a hot glass of water and some free food because she "looked so hungry and cold".

Then Leona stayed until the bar was closed. She waited not far from the back exit, watched him come out and left for his car. It was her chance.

He was a young man who had a fair look—androgynous, some might even say, with a smooth, white skin so thin that every time he filled up the drink for Leona, she could see the veins on his wrist and the blood pumping through them, and she would have to use all her self-control to not stare. He was "an ideal prey", as her people put it, and she was hungry. Really hungry.

Still she couldn't take him. He actually asked for Leona's number, but she just gave him a fake one. Maybe it just wasn't her thing. Leona comforted herself with this notion, and decided to go back to her haven and drink blood bags like a loser. They weren't that bad, anyway.

She encountered some ruffians on the street, who were whistling at this seemingly helpless, drunk stumbling woman, but when they approached her for whatever purpose, her growling breath and zombie-like glares immediately spooked them off.

a little bit more walking, and she would be back into the haven. Just as Leona thought so, an old, homeless man reached out to her with his paper cup in a dark, empty alley.

"Spare change, miss?" He asked, with his voice shaking for the cold of the night.

Leona could see on first sight that this poor man didn't eat for a day, and he would be a frail human who was very unlikely to survive a careless vampire drink, so she forced herself to walk past him. She deeply regretted starving herself to this extent.

However, probably out of sheer desperation, the homeless grabbed her hand with his weak, bone-dry fingers—if he couldn't get anything from her now, his eyes possibly wouldn't be able to see the next sunset, yet he was still startled by her body temperature, and withdrew out of basic instinct.

But it was too late. Leona covered his mouth and dragged him deeper into the alleyway, torn down his dirty scarf and bit. She tasted his collar, which was unpleasantly like some old gym socks, and the body odor was unbearable, but most importantly, she tasted blood.

Sweet, warm blood coming out of one life, directly into her lifeless body—it was nothing like packaged food. It was emotional. She could sense the fear, confusion, and despair from this human's fainting conscious, and despite the ugliness of these moods, they still made the drink amazingly incomparable to those liquid preserved in plastics.

It was so alive, and…terrifying.

Leona finally realized what she did. She threw the homeless on the ground, who was anesthetized by her fangs and totally out, checked his pulse while keeping wiping her bloody mouth with her quavering hands. Luckily, she pulled out in time, and this old man was still alive.

"Oh God…oh God…"

She looked at him, kept murmuring the Lord's name, even though she knew he never answered—especially to her kind. Leona dropped some cash into the paper cup and ran away. Now, she realized she was just as hypocritical as the One Above was.


	17. Private Investigation

Time flied in the Tremere Chantry for Leona, because her life here was pretty much arranged in a scientifically busy fashion—regular, fruitful, and just enough time for her to rest and get back in the game without being too indolent. She liked it, somewhat reminded her of the tough, book-wormy time in college, and it kept her away from thinking about those deep, scary subjects that would give people…like Garrett said, "existential crisis".

The first impression Leona got about her clan was only a small, competitive elitist group, but after two months in here it wasn't as harsh as she expected—yes, it was definitely a clan of elitism, but also of academia, so everybody here was mainly concerned with knowledge of all types, among which Thaumaturgy was the general priority. 

While Strauss was usually taking care of "administrative" matters, the rest of them in the Chantry formed up into a very autonomous study group, where they answered each other's confusions, consulted the books in the huge library underground, and practiced in a professional shooting range that was specialized for Thaumaturgy at the bottom of the basement—so no strange explosion sounds would come up and disturb the pedestrians. 

Though Tremeres used "Pyramid" to name their organizational structure, Leona didn't particularly feel "classified", at least not in this Chantry, not even the slightest hubris from seniority, for "none of them was worthy in front of Strauss", as one apprentice put it, and probably also because this group of people was just too tiny to be the foundation of any status or pride: Even taking the Kindred that were strong enough to live independently into account , the number of Tremeres in LA was less than 20, and in Chantry there were only 8. Leona once questioned Strauss why this bitty population, and his answer was:

"We are a clan that survives and prospers on secrets only we know, and secrets are obviously better kept when people who know them are as few as possible."

But she was not convinced: "Still, I think minority is always a huge disadvantage, both in Kindred and human society, if we are not strong enough, people will take away this secrecy by force…"

And Strauss laughed: "Trust me, we are strong enough. We make sure of that."

Putting learning aside, Leona also needed to work to provide herself, and in that area, Mercurio helped a great deal, connected the contacts she ought to have and smoothed her way in. Right now she worked mainly as a freelancer, picking up a request for this and that, mostly small-time stuff and greatly varied depended on the situations, but they all had the exact same purpose—to uphold the First Tradition: Masquerade.

She had broken into the homes of several geeky humans who suspected too much about the "LaCroix Terrorist Attack", erased their memories using one discipline called Dominate and took away all related information, material or electrical; Sometimes it was to attend negotiations with human individuals or companies about property purchases made by Camarilla; For once, she actually helped to stage the death of one new-born Kindred's human identity, made it look like a car crash.

How would they stage her disappearance? After that, Leona couldn't stop wondering. It was a dangerous notion, Strauss warned her long before that, trying to poke around her former life, but sometimes when she was finally alone in her room after a night's work, she would go incognito to check all the social medium, looking for the remaining traces about her—which were hard to find, considering her embrace was already months ago. 

Fortunately, thanks to the state-of-the-art tech support from one Camarilla clan named Nosferatu, she was able to browse everything on the internet on Kindred devices without leaving any footprints. This function was intended only for work or hunt, of course, but nobody put on any hard limits of what she should do with it.

So she finally found it: an old report on local newspaper, titled "Asian-female management consultant from Uchicago went missing on trip to LA". There was nothing exciting about it, just another daily tragedy happening all over the world, only people from her university and company were offering condolences.

Leona didn't know how she should feel. When she was human, she couldn't even care enough to click into this type of news reports…and now, she was the heroin of one. At least for those who actually died, they wouldn't have to see this, but she had to, to witness how…trivial her human life was under the wheel of time.

Ah, but from Camarilla's point of view, it was absolutely a good thing. Wearing a t-shirt and cap, Leona sat on the driver's seat of a blood van on one side of the road, trying to settle this down with herself. Besides, fame wasn't really a good thing—she was quite a celebrity in Kindred society, and all she got from that was just…an invisible pressure.

It was already 3 a.m. in the morning, her colleague closed the back door of the vehicle and got onto the seat beside her, signaling business closed. Driving blood van was now one of her most frequent choices of job—it was petty work, of course, but by doing this, she got to know where all her blood bags came from, and that was somehow…reassuring: Camarilla had vans like this parking on night streets all over America, paid desperate humans cash to get their blood. It was certainly immoral, but at least immoral in a…human way.

Though Strauss was strongly against it. He wanted Leona to take part in real battles to practice her Thaumaturgy and raise her status, for based on his observation, her so-called talent in Thaumaturgy came from the "untamable heat" in her Strings of Curse, and she must pay extra efforts to learn control of it.

But Zack told her to keep a low profile, and unluckily for Strauss, this Sabbat had a higher authority than him to Leona.

She was content, for now.

Drove the van back to one of those Camarilla blood banks, Leona returned to the Chantry, greeted the others, and went back to her haven. She lied on her bed, lighted up her cell, and saw the interface of one social media app she was looking at before. She scoffed at herself, and was ready to close it and uninstall it—

Until she saw a new update in one of her former colleague's accounts:

"OMG…First Leona and now it's Alice. Don't know what's wrong with this world."

Felt like all her nerves on edge, Leona sat up, quickly started scanning for any other information, and the more she read, the heavier her heart was. Lots of people in that consultant firm had talked about how weird it was that Alice hadn't been to work for three days since the weekend, and nobody could contact her in any way, which was even more unusual in Alice's case: she was one of the most social people who updated her status online several times every day.

What happened…no, nothing could happen to a normal, harmless girl like her. Nothing. Please. Leona tapped into Alice Turner's account, while praying in her heart so, and she stopped just at the latest update Alice posted five days ago. It said: 

"They were doing NOTHING to find Leo."

Leona dropped her phone on the floor. A horrifying possibility surfaced in her mind, and she immediately panicked. Stupid, stupid Alice, she didn't…she didn't do this, did she? Leona tried to put away the worst scenario and calm herself down first, as she excursed around and around in her room. Maybe it had nothing to do with her, maybe Alice was just pulling a terrible prank, that was something she would do…

As if to prove herself right, Leona picked up the phone again and read the rest of the contents in Alice's page, but unfortunately, it seemed that Alice hadn't been in the mood for making jokes ever since Leona was gone: at first, she was posting search notices everywhere, but after her efforts ended up in vain, there was nothing at all—except that one complaint about the law enforcement.

What was she supposed to do? Leona collapsed on the carpet. Could she ask for help? But she shouldn't ever know anything about this in the first place, so no one would be willing to clean up her own mess, and she could in no way do it on her own…Besides, to be honest, nobody would blame her to just stand by and watch—after all, technically, she was already dead to humans, what she was doing now was just…a ghost peeping at the life of the living.

For her own sake, Leona found lots of excuses not to step in. But just one reason was enough to overthrow all of them: that Alice could die because of her, and she couldn't bear that thought.

So Leona phoned the only one she might have a chance to get on her side.

"Hello, van driver, need to grease your wheels or something?" 

Right at the moment that someone picked up her call, he started to joke about Leona's poor choice of career.

"Hey, Mercurio, I…I need your help. I will talk to you tomorrow night, and…I know it will sound weird, but don't tell anyone about this, OK? Thanks."

Leona was so messed up that she hanged up before Mercurio could even reply. She took a shower and got into bed, worrying about how to convince this ghoul to help her, and fell asleep. She was hoping that she could find Garrett in her head again, but he didn't show up to give her any advice—just another dark, dreamless slumber.

The next evening, she took a leave and headed for Mercurio's place. He was expecting her, heard her out with a worried expression on his face, and buried himself in thoughts for quite some time.

"You knew it was against the rules, right? Like…against the rules in every possible way." He sighed, deeply troubled by this capricious request, "And it will risk yourself breaking the Masquerade."

And Leona just kept trying: "I just wanted to know what happened to her, not to take any more actions on it…Besides, there is a chance that she actually found something on us, then taking care of her is just doing my job, right?"

"But you just cannot. It's too personal…"

"I don't need to be involved unless it's necessary, and you don't need to leave here or anything. Just…I don't know, like call someone you know in Chicago who know things, that will do. I just need a closure."

And so Mercurio did. He went to the study room, ringed one of his buddies in local PD, then called someone again in the Bureau—apparently, both Leona and Alice's cases were under federal jurisdiction. At first Mercurio didn't seem surprised by the response given by his friend, but as he kept on listening, his face grew dark and his eyebrows were locked tightly together, giving Leona an ominous sign.

"You are right." He put down his phone, and said to Leona, "Your friend was investigating on her own about your disappearance. I will help you and keep it in the dark for now, but I won't promise anything if it gets too big."

Didn't know she should be relived or alarmed, Leona replied with a complex of emotions on her mind:

"Thank you, I owe you this."

What she didn't know was Mercurio didn't say yes simply out of his good heart and his concern for Masquerade. It was also a good opportunity for him to dig something up, too—He hadn't forgotten the task Prince LaCroix assigned him.


	18. Case Study

After the decision was made, Mercurio quickly sent a requisition and received all the case docs from his people on the inside. Again, Leona was both amazed and frightened by how resourceful he…or Camarilla was. It was like there was nothing they couldn't infiltrate, even high-above governmental departments.

Since right now Leona couldn't just walk away without giving the Regent a proper reason, they decided to split up—she would look at the documents of the case and pick up Alice's track in Los Angeles, while Mercurio would pay a visit to Alice's parents and colleagues in Chicago under the pretence of a federal agent, see what they say.

Leona immediately started it when she got back to her haven—she wouldn't dare to delay for a minute. Mercurio told her that statistically, the possibility of Alice being alive was already close to zero now, but…as far as it's not completely hopeless, she would view it as 100%.

But when she started, Leona began to realize how emotionally painful it was to go through the whole case: there were notes taken for interviews with Alice's families and friends, stating how broken she was about her best friend's disappearance, and her frustrations about the agents being unable to make progress. She moved out of the flat she shared with Leona soon afterwards and went back to live with her parents, losing her focus on work and becoming obsessed with the idea of finding Leona herself, even called people from Leona's orphanage to gather her clues.

The most difficult part, however, was to read her journals—Alice had the habit of writing diaries since she was an elementary school kid, and she never dropped a day. After realizing Leona's missing, Alice began to write them in the format of letters to her, with the contents less and less about herself, but more and more about Leona:

"Dear Leona, today Mark was drunk and cried in front of me, told me he regretted so much that he never told you he'd had this crush on you since college, because you always looked so cold, and he was scared that a ordinary guy like him would be refused brutally…"

"Dear Leona, today I went to St. Louis Children's Charity Centre. Everyone was so sad about your accident, because they've told every kid about you and the children in the orphanage look up to you as an example, but they told me you hadn't been there…"

"Dear Leona, I visited your former psychiatrist. She said she hadn't been able to get in touch with Dr. Garrett Johnson, too. What happened? Did he do something to you…"

"Dear Leona…"

Thinking about how she turned Alice from a girl who could imagine a romance from her one encounter with a nice guy into…this, Leona had to pause and look away from the computer for several times to push down her guilt.

And there she told Garrett she never really belonged, dumping all these people who cared about her behind and became a freaking vampire. What a…selfish bastard she was. Leona hated herself so. But right now her repentance was worthless, the only thing she could do was to think with a composed mind and find out what happened.

Then Leona found something odd, indeed. There was no records of Alice's diary after Thursday, 14th of March, the day before she flied to LA.

If this could be viewed just as a coincidence—that she was busy packing or just too disturbed to write anything, then what came next was even weirder: there was no bank record after she arrived in this city, like she hadn't used any of her cards or withdrawn any cash, and based on the account statement, she didn't seem to prepare the money somehow in advance, too.

So Leona further checked other info in the file, but that was also a dead end: no traffic footage, no eye witness, no log from any hotel registration…nothing, like Alice just got off the plane and vanished. Moreover, the case agents didn't show any suspicion of foul play behind this, just stopped the investigation there and drew the conclusion.

What?

Leona couldn't believe the case was ended so sloppily, so she called Mercurio to ask him to confirm these findings with the police or agents during his stay in Chicago. With a file like this and stuck in LA, Leona could practically do nothing but rely on him bringing in some valuable intel.

However, Leona didn't want to give up like this. She strolled back and forward in her haven, racking her brain until it was already morning out there, and she fell asleep on her desk. She was woken up by Mercurio's phone call:

"…Yes?"

"Just got back to the city…Now this thing looks serious." Then Mercurio went straight to the point, "Since you mentioned the diary, I actually asked for the original copy of it and guessed what? It's lost, and here's the most funny thing: concerning all those doubts you had, everyone that I asked—everyone that had handled the case said the exact same sentence in their answers: 'We have no other clues, and we have other cases to worry about.' Sounds like something to you?"

Leona narrowed her eyes, growing aware of what he was talking about: "They were hypnotized by Kindred."

There are two common disciplines that could allow vampires to penetrate human minds—Presence and Dominate. Though work in different ways, since the two all fundamentally involve planting psychological suggestions, humans under these effects will subconsciously imitate certain words or moves of the Kindred who "charm" them, and repeat them every time they obey the suggestions.

That could explain why they finished the case in such a hurry, because someone spent lots of efforts…persuading them to. Leona took a deep breath, fearing for Alice's life if she got herself into this vampire mess: "Did you check the archive? Was there anyone appointed to do such thing by CNA?"

Camarilla, North America adopts a more modern approach of management than its European predecessor, where every member's official assignments are documented in a cloud-storage archive system. Should someone within the organization did this, there will usually be records; but if…

"No, no record in the archive. That's the main issue—this is not CNA's doing." Mercurio bewailed, couldn't believe a small, personal favour from Leona ended up something really significant, "Do you want to report this? I mean, this doesn't look good, not something a fledgling and a ghoul can secretly solve, this whoever Kindred…is very good, a professional brainwasher."

Leona hesitated in silence, wavered. She didn't want more Kindred to get in this, for she couldn't guarantee that Alice would be safe if she was…"coped with" by other vampires, but if she didn't report, she wasn't sure if she could do this—and she didn't want to bother Mercurio further.

Just when she was unable to determine her mind, a Tremere apprentice knocked on her front door and shouted: "Leona! There's someone downstairs who got a message for you, from an Isaac Abraham!"

Who was this Abraham? Leona got confused, and couldn't understand why at this contemporary age someone would still use a messenger, unless…it was something secret that couldn't risk being handed onto the information network—where you never knew if someone was watching or tracking.

"Thank you, coming right away!"

Answered the apprentice, Leona set aside her distrusts and went back to answer the phone, and at the both side of this call, they came up with the exact same thing to say:

"Hold on, I got a messenger at the door."

They both paused and were startled, and again asked the same question:

"Was it from Issac Abraham?"

The room went into dead quietness. Leona sat on her computer desk, mulled over the whole thing, then enquired: "You know this guy?"

"Yeah, Baron of Hollywood, a Toreador vampire, very capable, earned quite a fame in his starry domain." Mercurio stopped and shilly-shallied a little, "Well…he is a suave and polished guy, but some will say he is a factual Anarch for his…implicit rebellion against the Prince, so a messenger from him…should make you careful."

"Then I assume we will get the same message…Check in with you later."

Leona hanged up, trying to process all the information in her head to make out the situation—"the key to your survival in Kindred society is to understand by yourself what is going on, instead of blind listening", that was Strauss' advice, but right now…it was really beyond her grasp.

So she decided to listen first. She tidied herself up, came downstairs, saw a muscular ghoul in suit was waiting in the lobby on the ground floor, and to her surprise, Regent Strauss was there, too. On the sight of Leona, the ghoul stood up and walked towards her, whispered in her ear at a volume only she could hear:

"Meet Issac Abraham at the Lalaland jewellery in Hollywood, 8 p.m. tomorrow night."

Then he bowed to the Regent and left, with no redundant act of any kind. Leona stood alone in the living area with Strauss awkwardly, feeling compulsory to explain herself, but he didn't seem to mind, just lowered his head lightly, beckoning his consent to Leona and said:

"Why don't you just…play it out and see what happens?"


	19. Lalaland Sponsorship

Turned out Leona and Mercurio did receive the same message. If so, then at the present there was only one connection between them could bring up something like this: The case they were working on.

So before going there, she gathered some information about this Baron of Hollywood, both from her fellow Tremeres and the internet, and to Leona's surprise, he was quite famous, even in human society—Issac Abraham was known to be one of the greatest movie producers in the last century, and even though as a human he died many years ago, he was still the secret sponsor of many Oscar winners and commercial big hits in current times; Apart from that, he bought one dying jewelry chain that nobody had faith in in 2006, and successfully turned it into the biggest player on the West Coast, even built up a charity foundation under its name: The first Kindred in the history who built up a foundation that was dedicated to human philanthropy.

All in all, it was a shame that he didn't work well with the Camarilla—that's what everybody said at the end, after answering Leona's question.

Looked like a honorable kind, this Issac. Leona rested some doubts about his involvement with Alice's disappearance, readied herself for this meeting: Issac is a Toreador, a clan famous for its discerning taste of art and beauty, and this Baron is a particularly old-fashioned one, so she would have to dress herself up real properly in front of him; besides, it was Leona's plan to ask for his help on Alice's case, so she was eager to please.

Luckily, she saved some money for fancy gowns, so she ordered a set of black suit from a ghoul working in fashion industry, with shoulder pads and bell-bottoms, having golden-and-silver peony motifs embroidered on the outside. It was no high-end limited edition, but would be enough to show she made an effort—at least it worked for Mercurio. He changed his usual dandy appearance, too, and picked a formal, double-breasted outfit in navy blue.

"Buonasera, signora." He looked at her permed side part and glimmering court shoes, whistled, offered his hand to help her walk out of the Chantry and into the his car, "Posso avere il piacere?"

The reason he did so, was Leona already started to stagger on her 3-inch heels. Goddamn fashion designers…how are people supposed to walk on these things? Leona cursed inwardly. Though every time before important occasions, where heels of some height were considered appropriate, Alice would teach her at home how to handle these things, Leona just…never learned.

Alice…that dumb girl. Those memories flashed back on Leona's way to Issac's place, reaffirmed her determination of finding the truth. Knowing that Leona would in no way have the mood to tolerate him, Mercurio spared his routine flirtations with her, and asked: "Do you want to keep the Prince in the dark about this?"

Leona thought for a second and responded with a question: "You think he would mind?"

"Well, he isn't that illiberal…if there's no conflicted interest."

What Mercurio said was true. Actually, Leona had done several "favors" for Anarchs like Nines' people—not big ones, something like taking care of the screaming ghoul girls who thought they lived in teenage vampire romances but ended up being dumped by their masters, and though she never reported these to the Prince, she didn't assume he knew nothing, and he never stepped in and stopped her.

"Then let's hope there is no…conflicted interest." So she replied.

Soon they drove into the most legendary part of the city—Hollywood, where all the young and beautiful people hang out, dreaming of being on the screen and becoming rich and famous. Even at night, the place is flooded with humans: tourists, celebrities, fans, paparazzies…You could hardly find "random passersby" in this place. Everybody comes here with a purpose. 

In fact, just on their way to the jewelry shop, both Mercurio and Leona got a business card…and a home number from a scout of opposite sex, while the former chuckled and accepted, the latter simply tore it up and threw it away.

"You know what they mean when they give you their private number, right?" Leona said, walked into the Lalaland Jewelry shop on Sunset Boulevard, shaking her head about Mercurio's reaction.

"I know," Mercurio shrugged, "I'm just making a private collection—I have ones in Italian and French, too. Lovely mementos."

Leona scoffed, regretted about even asking, just turned around and looked for someone to ask about Issac, but she hesitated. Though right now the shop was about to close, there were still lots of customers and human staff in here—this is one special branch of Lalaland Jewelry that features designer products and wonderland-theme decorations, which make it extra popular.

It would definitely be weird to ask aloud here…about a dead celebrity.

But soon, she noticed someone unusual here with her vampiric senses: a well-dressed gentleman appeared in his 60s, wearing a black wool coat and a hand-tailored pinstripe suit, with a walking stick in his hand. He was talking to a young human couple, as if giving suggestions about choosing wedding rings. Despite the old age, having the born good look and a cared body build, he could still charm lots of young ladies.

And certainly, he's a vampire.

"Here's our guy." 

Mercurio confirmed: He was the one who sent them the messengers. They waited until the couple left in gratitude for Issac's advice, then approached him naturally.

"Young love never bores me." But Issac didn't seem to be in a rush to talk about business, still gazing at the happy lovers who were about to walk out of the shop, "One of the best things to see in my profession…come, let's go to some place private."

They took the elevator to go upstairs into the staff-only area, entered the manager's office—who was the ghoul that delivered the message to Leona, opened a secret door on the wall and introduced them to his own place—a suite decorated in a flamboyant, Turkish style, much smaller than Prince's haven, but no less nobby.

"So why did you ask for us?" Sat down on the sofa in the meeting room, Leona cut to the chase.

"We were investigating the same thing…or to be precise, the two sides of one thing—you are tracking the victim, and I'm tracking the killer..." Issac paused, adjusted his saying, while trying to open some files on his computer and project them onto the TV, "No, maybe a kidnapper, since both us and the police haven't found the bodies."

Upon the end of his words, photos of eight young women marked with their names appeared on the screen, and the last one was Alice Turner. What shocked Leona most, however, was these women had the identical features: same dark, blonde hair, same azure blue eyes, same skin tones, same tall, slim figures…

Then Issac began to explain: "About two months ago, one of the Kindred under my command went missing, just around the same time these kidnaps started, in a cycle of 7 to 10 days all across the country. I noticed it because the first victim, Ginger Swan, is one of the actresses I worked with, and when I went to ask the law enforcement about her case, I saw signs of them being Presenced…so I know it is a vampire work."

"Any idea why would…this guy of yours do this?" Mercurio asked.

"Truth to be told…I don't know." Issac sighed, seemed troubled by this himself, too, "I heard from one of my agents that he was…somewhat into an occult? But no one knows the details."

The word "occult" disturbed Leona greatly, even though it was just an unconfirmed possibility. A human occultist killer was already brutal and perverted enough for preparing those "rituals"…she couldn't begin to imagine what a vampire occultist could do to torture Alice.

Noting that Leona was too occupied by something on her mind, Mercurio took over the conversation: "OK then, what do you propose? If you want someone to work on this, I believe you have plenty of capable personnel."

"Unfortunately since this Kindred was too familiar with my system, he knew how to avoid my people and my scrutiny. Moreover, I'm not sure if he did some part of it in LA, and though I hate to admit, outside the Pacific Coast it is beyond my reach, and CNA has a greater influence." Issac stopped, looked at Leona and continued, "I understand that you want to save your friend, yes? So let me put it in your perspective: if we work together, I can assure you no one else will step into the matter, provide you the secrecy you prefer and you will have any resource of mine at your disposal."

It was a clever move. Mercurio knew. Because clearly Leona was the one among them who would be more easily convinced. So he raised his doubts:

"Why do you want to keep it in secret, then? If you just want to finish this, you could walk past us and directly ask the Prince, who would immediately clean it up to let you owe him a favor. That is a better shot than us."

"First of all, I don't need favor-exchanging and relationship-building with LaCroix…I don't want to owe him anything." Issac looked quite open about his reason, "And as you can imagine, I have a face to keep. Right now you guys are eager to label me Anarchs and accuse us of being reckless about hiding our nature, if something like this got into these bureaucrats' ears…Ha, I can already picture the Prince lecturing about Camarilla's noble quest of protecting the Masquerade with me being a bad example."

"Fair enough, you have a deal." So Leona said yes.

Mercurio still wanted to say something, but Issac quickly replied with a relived smile: "Excellent, but I do have one condition."

"And what is that?" Mercurio didn't seem surprised at all.

"When you locate that Kindred, let me know. I want to hear what he has to say." While saying, Issac had his hand above his lips, with a light sadness on his face, "Ginger Swan is an actress with great talent and promising career, and I just got her a new, big role…if he ruined her, it will be personal between him and me. Any more questions?"

Sensing a bit of irony and impatience from Issac about him, Mercurio didn't push further, and Issac stood up to get them a flash drive of all the information he had. Leona let out a long breath, seemed finally got her head all cleared and noticed the suspicion Mercurio harbored still, thus said: "Don't worry, there's no conflicted interest here so it should be fine…I mean, it shouldn't hurt much for the Prince to lose a piece of speech material."

"Well, fingers crossed on that."


	20. Criminal Mind

Having all the things they need, Leona and Mercurio took off immediately—they were not here to socialize—then went through the files Issac gave them in a brief and had a quick discussion on the road. Issac had followed up this serial kidnapper for quite some time now, so although the Kindred did clean up his trails quite well, they still found something useful in there.

"I wouldn't say it was no use at all. I mean…even though these girls are from everywhere, and if you match the time and place there's no travelling pattern of this Kindred, too," Leona looked at the map on the laptop and analyzed, while Mercurio was driving and listening, "but they were all flying on their own to LA and disappeared afterwards, so I'd say he got in touch with them online. That's the best fit."

"Yeah, makes sense." Mercurio nodded, "Then I will have my Nossie friend look up their online footprints, see where they crossed paths right now. Hopefully this guy is not a top-rank hacker, too."

"Well, even if he is, he can't be better than a Nossie."

Nossie is their nickname for Kindred of clan Nosferatu. They are indeed the information and technology masters in the Camarilla, but…the clan name is not very easy on the tongue. Hence the nickname.

After calling this Nosferatu pal about his new request of the info, Mercurio pondered over what Issac said for a while, remaining baffled about some details: "Still I don't feel quite right about the whole 'occult killing' thing…well, I'm not an expert, of course, but why would he be so specific about those girls' appearances? Like, maybe because some crazy shit he believes he would need to pick someone to kill, but that standard is not usually about the looks, right? At least not in such…details."

Skimming through the files and photos of those girls again, Leona silently agreed with what Mercurio said: same hair and eye colors, similar faces, and now that they had the statistics of the missing girls, turned out they even had close ages, heights and weights. That was…too particular, as if this Kindred was looking for them according to a real-life example.

Then Leona thought of something after being shortly puzzled: "Alright, I know a Tremere apprentice in the Chantry who used to study criminal psychology…maybe she knew something."

She immediately phoned that Tremere, while Mercurio raised his eyebrows and muttered in a low voice on her words: "A Tremere who studied criminal psychology? Wow…That's a whole new level of creepy…"

Leona wasn't able to tell the apprentice much over the cell, but the opinion of a learned individual was still very enlightening: Yes, occult killing doesn't usually have requirements of victims' appearances on such a level, a spiritual or religious connection is much more common…which in this case was weird—this Kindred didn't seem to care about the cultural backgrounds of these women at all.

In fact, this looked very personal, like this Kindred was trying to fulfill some sort of intimate fantasy—a very refined one, considering how picky he was with the ladies, and mostly there would be an "ideal victim", someone who he thought could make his dream come true, and the ideal victim was more likely to be the first one or the last one.

"I'd say it's the first." Mercurio heard the theory and spoke his mind, "Ginger Swan is an actress, a public figure, and would be more probable to have crazy bat-shit fans."

"Then she should be…'a crime of passion', as my friend put it, and this guy would possibly have some personal connection with her."

"Alright then, we focus on her. How much time do we have?"

"…Not much." Leona's face darkened.

When they started investigating, Alice had disappeared for five days, based on this cycle of 7 to 10 days, they had two or three days, tops, if she wasn't already killed—It was very unlikely for this vampire to keep the girls alive if Ginger Swan was the ideal victim: she was the "perfect" one, so others were just…one-time substitutes, used and dumped.

Realizing how little time was left, Leona didn't even bother to go back to the Chantry. She headed for Mercurio's place directly to wait for the news and work on it, didn't plan to sleep until this thing was…finished: the greatest advantage they had right now, was the supernatural conditions of their bodies—they didn't need to rest that much like humans did.

"OK, you can stay here over the day, but you will have to go to the basement, my house isn't sun-proof so it's not safe for you in there…"

Just when Mercurio opened the front door of his house, turned on the light, let Leona in and told her about things of note, somebody suddenly appeared out of the thin air and shouted:

"Boom!"

And it scared both of them to death. Leona realized it was some joke, calmed herself down and looked to the pranker, but what she didn't expect was that the moment she saw his face, she received a second fright.

It was her first look at a Nosferatu Kindred, and although everybody had said that "they are not lookers"…it was really not about "pretty or ugly"—this Nossie didn't look like a human at all: his head was swelling like it had several tumors and they totally crushed his face, his skin was cyan with pits and wrinkles, like worms were crawling under it, and his teeth and…claws were as sharp as the animals'.

Gosh…it was the stuff that nightmares are made of.

Leona breathed deeply for several times to hold the screaming and swearing down in her throat—she was told they were very sensitive about their appearances.

"Bertram, why are you here?" While Mercurio seemed less surprised: this was the Nosferatu friend he told Leona about.

And so the Nossie named Bertram just swayed his flash drive hanged on his finger, proudly declared: "I looked up the stuff you asked for and it was just sooooo fucking interesting. I got excited, so I want to show you myself…and hack your house security system again, just for fun. Don't worry, I patched up where I came in, consider it a payment for leading me to such a juicy finding."

Though his voice was hoarse and twisted, too, this Kindred himself didn't act very spookily—in fact he was very humorous, though in a crude way, which helped Leona accept his look a little. Them three entered the study room, and Bertram began his explanations while opening up Mercurio's computer:

"You guys know the movie Laputa, right? Academy's best picture two years ago."

Even for people who don't follow up movie industry frequently, like Leona, a work with the fame like Laputa had passed her ears. Actually, she watched it in the cinema because it was so widely acclaimed, and it was indeed a good movie: still a good-old romance film at core, but was really deep and sincere, and the director presented it in a stage drama style with bits of mimes inserted, which made it artistically unique in form.

However, she was reminded of something more important about it other than its quality: "Wait, the movie starred Ginger Swan, right? It was her first appearance on screen, and she was the heroin."

She also remembered that…Alice really loved that film.

"Clever girl, you! But Ginger Swan was completely outshined by the male lead, played by a babyface named Ash Rivers. Issac intended this movie to be the stepstone for both of them, but Ash clearly did better—that part in Laputa got him the best actor, and Ginger got nothing." Bertram licked his lower lip while saying this, with his finger swiping on the monitor, showing the other two his work, "Now here's the interesting bit: all the other girls you guys are looking for are big on this movie, and are the loyal fans of Ash Rivers, even after he disappeared from the public for a year now. No coincidence, right?"

"Hmmm…and?" Leona nodded and asked. She lost count how many times Alice said how handsome and cute Ash Rivers was.

"After the movie, lots of Ash Rivers fans criticized Ginger to be just a 'pretty vase' who has no real thing, which was an exaggeration, really, but she was still greatly depressed for this and didn't get any part in anything…Until recently, news said she was going to reappear in a movie that's going to come out next year, an again Issac Abraham production named Negative Zero, while Ash Rivers had vanished and faded away. See the picture I'm painting?"

"Wait…so you are saying Ash Rivers did this?" Mercurio felt like his head was totally messed up and couldn't figure it out, "But he is not a vampire, is he? I mean, if a celebrity like him have become a vampire, we'll know. Everybody in the Kindred society will know."

"I ask around and nobody in the Nosferatu knows, too." Bertram sat on the armchair with his legs on the desk, and spread his hands, "If we don't have the news of his Embrace, then I doubt it happened, but this movie Laputa was definitely involved somehow, because I just dug this up in our censorship landfill…"

In charge of the Camarilla IT department, Nosferatus also need to monitor everything that's going on in every dark corner of the internet, pinpoint anything that would risk exposure of the true supernatural existence to humans, then delete and dump it into what Bertram called "censorship landfill".

Leona had a bad feeling about the stuff Bertram dug up in there—most of the time, it would be records of supernatural violence, the real kind of violence.

"Brace yourself for this." Bertram clicked on the video in his drive, looking serious for the first time, "We've seen lots of nasty things by doing the cersoring shit, but this one…is really psycho."


	21. Laputa Has Fallen

The picture quality of this video screamed hidden camera, but It was clear enough to see the surroundings and the one face in the middle: it was within a rustic, cozy, well-decorated Swiss chalet, and a crying woman was tied up to a wooden chair, looking at the person who was filming this. Based on the angle of the lens and the direction the woman's eyes were looking at, the camera was planted on the person, who presumably was the Kindred that kidnapped her.

And the lady…was no other than Ginger Swan.

"What's wrong, Miss Wordsmith? The chair was not comfortable?"

The camera man spoke. Though his voice was processed and not identifiable, but it sounded like his tone was polite, and quite strange under this situation—Ginger's surname was Swan, and she was clearly not weeping because the chair was uncomfortable.

But Leona quickly realized something: "It was the line from the movie."

Ginger's role in the movie was a young and successful genius novelist from New York, with a pen name called Emily Wordsmith, and was renting a chalet in Switzerland to stay away from the big city and find the quietness to work on her new story named Laputa.

"This is how the story started, right?" Now that Leona mentioned it, some plots in the film surfaced in Mercurio's head, "The writer complained about the chair, and the male lead—the housekeeper's son, who was also a carpenter—heard it and started to build a new one. That's their first conversation."

"Yes, a shy, handsome Swiss young man who was a big fan of Emily's works and had Asperger Syndrome—Noah Müller, that's Ash Rivers' character in there." Bertram added, "And if I'm not mistaken…this chalet looks exactly the same like the one in the movie."

So what, this kidnapper was trying to…relive the film? Leona continued watching with this hypothesis in mind, and it proved to be correct: The camera man was repeating the question again and again, until Ginger Swan stopped crying and cursing, followed his lead and finished the part about the chair.

Then the video switched to another scene, where Ginger Swan was in her bedroom, and the camera man was holding a tape, doing just what Noah did in the movie: measured Emily and tailored the chair design to her body. Emily was supposed to be a bit surprised and awkward by this kind yet over-intimate offer and accepted it anyway, but clearly Ginger Swan was not in the mood to act—she was hit and had bruises on her face.

Until the third scene, her will was finally broken. Ginger was cuffed to bed, sneered at first, then louder and louder, and it eventually became a deranged laughter.

"You fucking loser! You are just jealous, aren't you? Couldn't bear my success, you arrogant pig!" She screamed, her face twisted, even with her beauty that expression was abominable, "Issac was disappointed at you, right? Oh, his favorite prodigy was blinded by money and fame and became an overdosed addict, Ha! That old fool would never know I drugged you and got you hooked in the first place! And you dickless coward didn't even dare to tell him…"

And the camera man finally couldn't bear this. He let out a bestial roar and jumped on her, and the video blacked out for a few seconds.

The study room went into silence at the same time. Leona breathed deeply in and out, and said: "So the kidnapper is Ash Rivers. That's the only possibility that fits the logic."

"Hollywood bullshit, huh? Jealous actress dropped some sugar in a rising star's drink and ruined his career." Bertram scoffed, "You might think I'm biased because I'm one ugly piece, but I'm telling you, the fanciest people are always the dirtiest."

"And there are lots of things Issac Abraham didn't tell us." Mercurio sighed, with his eyebrows locked in upset.

Indeed. Both Ash Rivers and Ginger Swan were very close to Issac, It was impossible for him to know nothing like what he pretended to.

The video wasn't finished, however. What came next was still just like how it played out in the original Laputa: in a stormy night with lightnings, Noah read the novel Emily wrote to her to help her sleep, but he deliberately changed the tragic ending into a happy one instead. It was supposed to be a romantic, moving scene, but right now everything just looked horrible and pathological—there was something wrong with Ginger Swan: her eyes became turbid, her lips were all purple, and her skin was snow-white and covered in marks of black veins, like she was a living corpse, and even in this state, as if the man who was reading her book gently was a more terrifying monster than her, Ginger turned her face away from him, with her body trembling in scare at the corner.

Until the final scene in this video, she was already a complete zombie with saliva leaking out of her open mouth and skins falling apart from her arms, but Ash Rivers was still carrying her, dancing around and around in her room. In the original film, it was one of the most famous mime excerpts—Noah was watching the Tango in Scent Of a Woman, and imagining he and Emily were the ones that were dancing, showing the a childish, soft side of a seemingly awkward man who was misunderstood and feared because of his conditions, and now…

"It's just sick…" Mercurio buried his face in hands, exclaimed in disgust.

Fortunately for them, the video about Ginger Swan ended afterwards, even though based on Ash's fantasy of reconstructing the film, it was only half-finished. Leona held her forehead with her fingers, clearly anxious about Alice's fate if that was what happened to all the victims: "Any video of other kidnapped girls?"

"Yeah, but they are basically the same, despite the heroin." Bertram explained, "Though some of them survived longer by playing along better, every girl broke down eventually and got turned into zombies…Oh, speaking of which, I have no idea what kind of diseases, germs or viruses could make Ginger Swan into that thing. I already checked, it's nothing in human records, so I'm guessing it's some sort of plague made by Kindred."

Looking at the tremulous lips of Leona's, Mercurio figured out the question she wanted to ask but didn't dare to, so he asked in her stead: "How many videos are there?"

"Seven. So there's still hope for the last one."

Leona's relief was visible upon Bertram's answer. Now to her this nasty-looking Nossie was a guardian angel with a golden halo on his head: "Thank you, Bertram, you are a life-saver."

"Anytime!"

Bertram grinned and gave them a thumb-up, vanished right in front of them again—them Nosferatus have a discipline called Obscure, a power that can literally make them invisible.

"There's still time tonight, let's give Issac an encore visit." Mercurio immediately backed up the videos in his drive and packed up, seemed a little pissed-off, "This old bat really fooled us with his act. He should get an Oscar."

"Agreed." It was rare for Leona to say this word to Mercurio.

They rushed back into Hollywood, and when they arrived again at the Lalaland Jewelry, it had been closed for quite some time, but the shop manager—the ghoul of Issac's, was still there to answer the door and let them in.

So they showed the video to Issac.

"…Ha! That old fool would never know I drugged you and got you hooked in the first place…"

Issac didn't even have to stomach to finish it. He closed the video with his quavering fingers, sat there in his huge armchair, with his body sinking and shrinking into the cushion. Right now, he lost all his grace and style, really looked like a poor, helpless old man.

"Ash…Ash…why don't you tell me…" Issac whispered with his blank looks, "Why don't you tell me Ginger did this to you…Should I know, I would never ever give her any new parts…I would kill her career myself…"

"Anything you want to tell us?"

Though a little astonished about how emotional Issac was with the whole thing, Leona didn't have time to wait and went right down to the business.

So Issac took a moment and found his composure, gazed at Leona and replied sincerely: "You could guess most of it, then, I suppose: Yes, Ash Rivers is a Kindred, I am his Sire…and yes, it was me who helped him cover all those tracks, but I never knew any of his doing and would no way be a part of it. I was just…trying to protect him. I'm sorry that I deceived you.

"Ash and Ginger were my ghouls…he was always a very upright young man who truly loved acting and movies—he was born for it, so I was heart-broken when I found out he got himself into narcotics. I didn't know it was Ginger Swan, so I assumed he was just one of those weak-minded youngsters who were corrupted by Hollywood's dark side. I had a fight with him, said to him that after everybody knew him, I didn't know him anymore…he didn't say anything, and that made me even more angry. I said harsh words and he just…cut himself."

"And you Embraced him to save him?" Mercurio asked, looked not so mad at being played by Issac now.

"I knew it wasn't right…being a vampire was no way a remedy to anything, and it would be too hard for a man of his fame to live our lives in secret…the paparazzies would never let him go." Issac's spine was bent for the weight of remorse, "I told myself there had been too many talented, young people who were ruined by desire, so I shouldn't be personal about this…but I couldn't help. I was there, and I could have saved him…"

Leona began to connect the dots: "So all this time that Ash Rivers disappeared, you were…protecting him?"

"I sent him out of the country, let him live in one of my properties in Hungary, away from any public exposure…I thought maybe after a few years, people would forget him, and by then it would be safer for him to come back. He listened to me and didn't complain about anything for a whole year, but I guess the news of Negative Zero starring Ginger Swan was just…too much for him…"

The suite was quiet for a long time, with no sound but the raindrops outside. It was Issac himself who broke the silence: "Alright, the video was filmed in a chalet that looked exactly like the one in Laputa, correct?"

"Yeah, do you know where they film it?" While saying so, Mercurio already opened his laptop, ready to search for the address of this chalet on the map.

"Yes I know, but it's simply not possible for him to do it there." Issac shook his head, "After the film the original chalet has become a vacation rental spot, very popular, he couldn't have had the privacy over there. This house he used is a replica, a very good one."

Just when the other two men were lost in perplexity, not knowing what's the next step, Leona spoke, after a long contemplation: "Still, you can track the decorations, furniture and objects used in the film, right? That degree of authenticity in the video couldn't be created by some cheap duplicates sold to usual fans, there would be high chances that Ash got them from the same source of the original movie props."

"Yes…it is worth a shot." Issac gave a praising look to Leona, a little marveled at her sharp mind, "I can call people who know the shopping list…maybe Ash is beyond saving, but at least I can help you save your friend, young one."


	22. Ash to Ash

It didn't take Issac long to confirm Leona's idea, and fortunate for them, she was correct—there was a list of purchases made by an empty-shell company that was identical to the movie props used in the chalet, and although they were unable to trace the owner of that company, they did have a location of this replica chalet: It was in the Mountain San Antonio, one and a half hour of car driving from LA town area, and they would need to walk into the forest.

When they got this info, it was already past 12 p.m., could be a little risky to go right away if they needed to prepare for a battle, and they didn't know what to expect: the appearance of that whole empty-shell scheme worried Issac, because Ash wouldn't be that clever and resourceful to pull this off, it could be the doing of that "occult" he mentioned before, which meant…they would expect company.

but time was the essence, and both Issac and Leona were eager to see this end, so them three would just give it a shot now anyway—after all, as the Baron of Hollywood, Mr. Abraham still got some "back-up tools" for "tough negotiations"… In fact, a trunk of them, and it should at least got them out of there safely.

"Is it your first time…to go into a battle?"

Sitting in his customized Rolls Royce with sunlight-proof coating, Issac looked at Leona, smiled and asked. She opened the window, looked at the flashing traffic light on the road as the car galloping forward without any barrier, groping the shotgun in her hands. It was filled with special rounds made for supernatural creatures—the bullets would explode into small blades once being fired, piercing deep into the flesh, deadly to Kindred if it was a shot at head or heart.

Leona chuckled, wondering if her facial expression was that obvious: "Well, not the first time to kill but…the first time I walked in while expecting it."

"Must be one hell of a friend for you, huh? To get you out of the blood van." On the driver's seat, Mercurio tried to chatted up to smooth the tension in the air, "Well, just…your suit will be definitely wasted. Pity."

"I can kick off the heels if they are slowing me down, but…can't do the same with the suit." Leona shrugged while saying, and the other two laughed. She didn't know why she joked about proactively, considering…what was coming for her.

"After this, I can ask a designer to get you a new one, if you want." Issac said, "A much better one. Consider it a bribe to get you in my crew. LaCroix doesn't deserve you."

"Hey, guys! I'm still here! Don't ignore me because I'm a ghoul!"

That's the only conversation they had on this trip.

Soon they arrived at the foot of the mountain, and under the darkness of the night, this famous hiker site became a horrifying, black giant standing in front of them, and the serene, solemn scenery of forests it presented to tourists had right now turned to a maze. Leona's eyes have no problem identifying every twigs on the ground and every lurking creature in the bushes, but still, she could feel the unfriendliness of wild places like this at night—it was like every rustle of trees was saying "you are not welcome".

Following Issac off the hiking route for some 20 minutes, they saw a source of light amongst the forests: a chalet, standing there with all lights turned on, shining like a beacon on the evening sea.

"This is it." 

Issac murmured, took out the sword hid in his walking stick, glanced back at Leona, and she nodded, closed her eyes and focused. 

This was the first time she used the discipline Auspex in real-life situation—a power of…looking at things beyond her usual senses, somewhat like letting her soul out of her body to explore the whole area from a high spot. It's a very abstract discipline, compared to Dominate and Thaumaturgy, and she spent much more time merely learning to use it at the most basic level.

She Auspexed the chalet and opened her eyes, with a worried and confused look.

"What?" Feeling like it was a bad sign, Mercurio asked, gripping his S&W 500s.

"I sense only one vampire and one human in the chalet…and in this area, too, apart from us." Leona hesitated while answering, "I'm not sure but…the vampire seems not aggressive, and the human is…dying."

She gritted her teeth at the last word, couldn't wait for the response of her companions and dashed right to the chalet at the full speed, then kicked on the door—and oddly enough, the door was already open, as if…the owner of the house was expecting visitors.

"So you are Leona Lee, right?"

Ash Rivers was in the living room, sitting at the rocking chair by the fireplace, looking at Leona with a peaceful smile. He was wearing the costume of Noah Müller, appearing just like the introverted Swiss boy with a sensitive, poetic heart in Laputa, only…a little paler.

Leona was startled, and so were Mercurio and Issac who caught up with her. They were expecting a psychopathic, bloodthirsty Kindred killer jumping at them, not…this.

"And it's good to see you, too, Issac. It's been a long time." Then Ash smiled to his Sire, "Don't worry, I won't attack you, and please don't bleed me, too, because…if you take in my body fluid, it will get you all infected…"

"Give me a reason for not killing you right now." But Leona had no patience of listening to him mumbling, "And where's Alice!?"

"Oh, I don't intend to live, you are welcome to kill me. I've made…terrible mistakes."

"No! Just…wait for a second, let me talk to him."

Couldn't tolerate the sight of his Childe being so careless and…indifferent about himself, Issac held down Leona's shotgun, asked for a conversation with Ash in an almost begging tone.

Ash, however, seemed very determined. In fact, he nearly looked like he was already dead: "There's no talking, Issac, not this time. The first time you talked to me, I got myself killed and you turned me into this…freak, and the second time you talked you convinced me to escape like a coward, and imprisoned me in a country where I couldn't even find someone to talk to…I lived like a livestock. So no, my Sire, not this time, you couldn't do anything to extend my worthless life. Since the moment that black woman…'changed' me, I'm a walking poison bag living on borrowed time. I will die, sooner or later."

"Who was that black woman?" Mercurio asked, "Was she from the occult?"

"I don't know, and I don't care. I didn't even ask her name…I just said yes to whatever she asked, so she could get me back to America, to see Ginger and ask her why…" Ash smirked bitterly at himself, "God, to think I used to love that woman, and covered her up for what she did to me…so that she could still have a career. But she was just a bitch, who would sleep with anyone who can help her climb up. 

"I didn't regret killing her at all. And the other six women, too. Those…phony liars, claiming they so loved their life, their jobs, their husbands and boyfriends, but when I sent them messages and asked them to give up everything and come to me for audition in secret, they didn't even blink. No. Those were not the mistake I made. The mistake was…Alice."

That cruel contempt he held on his face melted away, and was replaced by…affection, almost love. Leona was clamping the shotgun in her hand when hearing that name come out of his mouth, so tight that she could break it, but Ash didn't mind, just went on by himself, as if having an audience or not didn't really matter to him:

"She didn't fall for my trap. Alice said she had to find you first, otherwise you could be in danger…so I used you, Leona, to tempt her. I know it's too low even for me, but…I have to have her, I know I have to." When speaking the last sentence, his body and voice were shaking in a morbid excitement, as if that kind of lust to obsess someone still stimulated him, "I said both you and me were suffering from a rare disease that caused us to have to avoid sunlight, and we were both receiving treatment in the same hospital. She was so disappointed when you were not here, but she still stayed. Such a kind, pure girl…if I taught her to act, she would be a much better actress than Ginger…"

"So what!? You bit her, hit her, and raped her!? Is that it, you monster!?"

Leona couldn't hold her rage anymore. She grabbed his collar, shouted with fangs growing out of her gum and tears streaming from her eyes, like a lioness growling by the bodies of its dead cubs…But then, there were salty waterdrops coming out from Ash's eyes, too, looking so astonished and wronged by Leona's charges:

"No…no, no! No I didn't!" He nearly whimpered, shedding his tears like a naïve child, "I…I just kissed her…just…a kiss…"

His reply astounded Leona. Astounded all of them.

"I told her it wasn't an audition, it's just…I've been here alone for my disease for so long, I felt lonely, and she looked so much like Emily, so I lied to just get her company…" Ash smiled for this good memory, "And she didn't get mad at me. She volunteered to stay, you know, for a few days then we would go look for you…I didn't even need to ask her. I wanted to let her go, confessing to her about the truth and told her to run, because I couldn't…humiliate her, profane and pollute her…like I did to other women. So I just kissed her, you know, when she was asleep, on the lips to say goodbye…and even that…even that had got her infected…I didn't know, the black woman just said biting and sex could do it, I didn't know…I'm sorry…"

Leona loosened her grasp. She didn't know what to do, facing this crying, sodden young man. She tried to hate him more, so that she wouldn't hesitate about killing him, and she did hate him in some part of her heart but just not...completely, not enough to let her put her shotgun into his mouth and pull the trigger.

In the end, he's just…too lonely.

Then Ash's sobbing turned into wry laughter. He stood up, raised both of his arms and declared:

"See? That's how evil I am! She's the only good thing I've encountered in my life, and I touched and destroyed it! I'm unforgivable! Just kill me! Kill me! Kill me…"

Ash screamed and pushed his chest onto Leona's muzzle in hysteria, staring right into her eyes, repeating his request of killing him, while Leona kept falling back, and he just kept coming closer, until she boggled and her firearm slipped out of her fingers…

"Bang!"

And so, someone did the job.


	23. Mercy Killing

Mercurio fired his revolver, and the bullet flied over Leona's shoulder into Ash's chest. A crimson flower bloomed on his shirt, with blood dripping out through the cloth.

"…Thank you, stranger."

Ash stepped back for a bit, muttered in a grateful smile, and Mercurio walked in front of Leona, took his second shot without anyone hindering, hitting right through Ash's heart. "You're welcome." He responded to Ash's gratitude, in a low, mild voice.

"My Childe…"

The second fire finally woke up Issac's frozen mind. He dropped his sword and kneeled on the ground, crawled to Ash's body and held him in his arms, lamenting. By that time, Ash Rivers wasn't fully unconscious, and when Issac grabbed his hand, he gripped it back and tried to shake it with his remaining strength. There was an radiant excitement on his face when he respire with his bleeding mouth, like he was having a sweet dream:

"Thank you…Mr. Abraham…for giving me this chance…I won't…disappoint you…I will make…Laputa…a great piece…"

Those were his last words, and then, he burned into ashes in his Sire's embrace.

Leona couldn't stop her body from shivering. She turned around and looked at Mercurio in shock…almost guilt, as if she just killed an innocent man by accident. And Mercurio just gave her a soft, one-handed hug, said to her ear: "Come…Issac needs some time alone, and we still need to find Alice, right?"

She almost collapsed when he said Alice's name, because she realized the worst part…the part she never wanted to face, had just arrived.

"Leona, listen to me, you cannot lose it right now, not for Alice, you understand me?" Mercurio held her arms and shook them, kept her concentrated, "You saw what those women became on the video, didn't you? Do you want Alice to become that? Do you want to remember her that way?"

Leona closed her eyes, swallowed her fear and said: "No."

"Then you know what you have to do." 

Mercurio handed his gun to Leona, and out of a nearly instinctive rejection, she didn't hold it, so he used his fingers to help, or force her to grab it tight, and kept persuading: "You are her friend, you should be the one who is by her side right now, and if you are not calm and strong enough to…to lie and comfort her, she will have doubts, and she won't be able to die in peace…do you hear me?"

After a long silence, Leona nodded. Mercurio tried to give an encouraging and relieving smile, and led her deeper into the chalet.

The first thing they saw, and the most eye-catching object in the house, was the huge cradle chair hanging from the ceiling, and the only way to climb in and sit on it was through a stair of 1.5 meters' height. It wasn't almost a chair, but a tiny study room built in a cocoon: there was a mini-shelf on the side to put in books, and a wooden, mobile desk pad where the person could read and write on it…

It was the final piece Noah made for Emily at the end of the movie—he made a Laputa, the floating island in Gulliver's Travels for her, so she could finish her work in an actual…Laputa.

Now, Alice was sleeping in there, and on the desk pad there were medicines that Ash bought her. She looked just like Ginger Swan in the video when she first appeared after the infection…Leona couldn't bear to imagine what would come next.

Leona took a few breaths, tried to adjust her expression to make her face not so stiff, and walked up, sat next to Alice. Though being very weak, she still sensed someone coming close, and asked: "…Ash? Is that you? I heard some noises…"

"It's not Ash, dumb girl…it's Leona." Leona smoothed her tune at her best, "Ash told me to come and take a look at you."

A beam of life shone upon Alice's face: "Leo…"

She reached out for Leona, as if she couldn't see very well, so Leona held her hands, which were as cold as her vampire skin. Feeling a little more assured, Alice took a few breaths and said: "Everyone has been…looking for you…You should have said something…you know? They all thought…you are dead…"

Alice kept coughing, seemed hard to speak a complete sentence, so Leona took over and answered: "I…It was very urgent…I had to check into the hospital immediately…I'm sorry to keep you worrying…"

The moment these lies came out of her lips, Leona felt their stupidity and worried Alice would sense something wrong, but it looked like she was too feeble to think straight, and just took her words for real so easily: "It's OK…you are safe now…that's the most…important thing…"

It was now blood Alice was spitting when she coughed, but she herself didn't seem to realize. Leona wanted to clean it away, but Alice was too excited about the topic she was eager to share: "By the way…Can you believe it? I live with Ash Rivers now…It's like in the movies…"

"Yeah, he told me. I'm so...jealous of you." Leona just kept…lying.

"Ha…I'm a charmer…what can I say…" Alice tried to laugh, but with her condition, all she could do was to just twitch her face convulsively, "I feel guilty…you know…I took an advantage…he was in a…very emotional state…he was so sad, despite…all his fames…He taught to me how to…play Emily's role…you know…and he said I was gifted…"

"Maybe you could actually try the audition…after you get better."

"Yeah…and I think he kissed me…when I'm asleep…" A blush of happiness appeared on her pallid cheeks, "Even after…I got the fever…he was still caring me…all the day…read me books…where is he?"

Alice tried to get up to look for Ash, but her body was so unsteady that it almost fell off the chair. Leona held her down and comforted her: "Don't worry, he went out to find you a doctor…the hospital will send someone to pick you up, and…you will get better…"

"Oh, you poor, poor thing."

Suddenly a puckish, sarcastic voice of a female came out of the window besides them, interrupted their conversation. Mercurio turned back immediately, aimed the shotgun he picked up after Leona at the speaker, and turned out it was just…a head.

Bishop Bridget's head, reached down into the interior from the rooftop, with her neck lengthened like a snake. "Oops." She evaded Mercurio's first shot easily, put her face in front of the hanging cocoon, with her body climbed into the chalet slowly afterwards, "Come on, I just wanted to talk to these cute little girls, let's not get so violent, hmm?"

Just while she was saying, a group of Sabbat soldiers from Tzimisce clan flooded into the house and surrounded them, with guns and blades pointing out like the thorns pointing at the animals trapped in bushes.

"Leona, are you? Dear old Garrett's kid…You are one troublesome pain in the ass, you know that? Like Sire, like Childe, poking around for your untimely curiosity." Bridget walked around below the cradle chair, wagging her finger, "No, no, no, that's not a good girl, you spoiled my plan. See, if it weren't for you out there dragging people with you to find your friend, no one would have found out my thing! It was intended as a surprise!"

Thinking of what Ash said before he died, Issac realized, with the sword shaking in his grasp: "You…you are the woman who made him a plague-bearer!"

"Bingo! That's me! And you precious little Alice here, is our important specimen. In fact, considering how Leona pissed me off, I just decided to make her my personal favorite. Now, if you guys just remain still and let me take Alice away, nobody will get hurt, and I will make sure Alice receive the special treatment in my boss' lab…"

Bridget prolonged her arm to capture Alice, but her hand was instantly hit by a 500 magnum, leaving a bloody hole that could be literally seen through.

"No. Don't you dare lay your hand on her." It was Leona.

"What…what is going on…Leo…"

"It's ok, Alice, no one would hurt you."

When holding Alice's hand and comforting her, Leona spread the lone blood wing behind her left shoulder, determined to fight Bishop Bridget, whereas Mercurio looked at her with an unbelievable expression—only a crazy would think a new born Neonate could even confront a Bishop, a high-ranked member in Sabbats.

Healing the whole on her palm in a blink, Bridget was clearly agitated:

"You ignorant worm!"

Then her hand suddenly expanded into the size of a dinner table, swept on the hanging chair like she was merely patting a ball, and everything in her way was slapped down on the floor.

Alice fell down in a mess of broken furniture like an abandoned toy, completely fainted, and was absolutely defenseless when Bridget walked towards her and picked her up.

"No…" 

Leona tried to get up, wielded her wing to beat Bridget, but the Bishop just gripped her Strings of Curse bare-handed so very easily, and threw her back away again.

"Leona! Don't forget what I told you!"

Mercurio's shout woke Leona up from the raw wrath that possessed her mind. She took a glimpse back at him, and he didn't say anything further, but she knew what he meant.

Then she looked up at Alice, being carried on Bridget's shoulder.

"Special treatment" in Sabbats' "laboratory", that was what waited ahead for Alice if she was taken away by Bridget…alive. If what happened to the girls kidnapped by Ash wasn't special treatment enough…then…what would they do to her if they simply saw her as a specimen?

Leona knew, she couldn't…allow this to happen.

She wanted to fight back, but what were the chances she could win? And even if by the possibility of one out of hundred, she won, she would have to explain to Alice what happened here…at best, she came up with a bigger lie, and at worst, Alice would know the truth—the horrible truth about Ash, about the friend she'd tried so hard to find…and about herself.

That's too painful. It would be…easier to let her go in ignorance.

So Leona picked up the revolver, pointed it towards Alice's forehead. Luckily, she was asleep now, so she wouldn't know…she wouldn't know. Leona bit her lips, wiped away her tears to lift her barrel and aim precisely, convincing herself so, and pulled the trigger.

"Bang…"

But fate just didn't want Leona to escape from it so easily. The moment of the bullet flying out of the nozzle, Alice opened her eyes, staring at Leona and the gun in her hand in consternation, as if asking why.

"Alice, I…"

Leona tried to say something to explain, but Alice didn't live to hear that. The shot had gone right between her eyebrows, and exploded the back of her head.

Upon the sound of gunshot, Bridget paused and glared down at the brain and bone fragments dripping off from her shoulder. Now this time, she was angry. The real kind of anger. She turned around, looked at Leona like she was already a dead meat:

"I'm going to rip your spine out…"

"You stole my line, you fucker."


	24. Bitter Medicine

ack laughed and cursed, kicked off the front door with a strength so brutal that it smashed right onto Bridget's head and back, then scattered into pieces. This old, beardy cowboy as well as Nines and other Anarchs behind them were covered in blood—obviously, they'd had quite a fight with the Sabbat on their way here.

Now the situation became…subtile.

Apparently, collecting "specimens" like Alice was something very important to do, even for Bishop Bridget, and she was really pissed at her mission being destroyed by one unworthy-of-mentioning Neonate…and from Tremere, the clan whose sole existence is a sacrilege of the ancestors of Tzimisce. And before those Anarchs broke in, she could just take out her rage as she pleased, even though Issac could be of some trouble, that Neonate and ghoul won't be a big problem…

However, they got the luck to have someone come to their rescue.

"Why are you here?" Bridget asked, looked at these unexpected guests with eyes that could eat them for dissatisfaction.

"I have to give you the credit, really, now you Sabbat really get to think and plan, but your foot soldiers are disciplined like crap." Nines scoffed, "Apparently you other plague-bearer used his power for personal revenge and went sloppy about the task you gave him, left quite a trail."

Bridget grinded her teeth, obviously reluctant to just walk away in frustration like this: "So what? You find me, not him, do you think you can overpower all of us?"

"I would love to find out, but it's 3:30 already." Nines pointed at the watch on his wrist, "We LA locals can dilly-dally our way home, but you would need a long time on the road, So unless you want to see the sunrise, keep moving."

Unable to deny what Nines said was true, Bridget spitted on the floor and waved her head, beckoning retreat to her soldiers. One of the Sabbat cannon folder tried to do a sneak attack on Nines, but got his head hit off the neck by the baseball bat of a red-haired, twenty-something chick in crop top and camo-trousers.

"Fucking Sabbat shovelhead…" She kicked the head to the side of Bridget's feet, gave the Bishop a fearless, provocative look and cheered, "Yay! That's a home run!"

"Stop it! Damsel…" 

Nines muttered her name and gave her a tough look, as if not very satisfied about her further upsetting the enemies, while Jack simply grinned and rubbed her hair, like a dad spoiling his daughter. Luckily, Bridget didn't take the girl with a funny name too seriously and left without even looking at them, so for now, they were safe and sound in this chalet, alone.

Noticing Nines and Jack caught up with Issac and Mercurio, started to talk about "men's stuff", Damsel squiggled her mouth in boredom and looked around the room, searching for something more interesting.

And she saw Leona.

Not that Leona was interesting to her—In fact, Damsel never really liked this Chinese-American Tremere: All Tremeres were scheming blood mages to her, and now Nines had saved this girl's ass TWICE without any worthy repayment, which just…made Damsel extra dislike her, for some personal reason she herself couldn't even explain. But Leona did them Anarchs a few favors and showed enough respect for a Cammy—that's how her addressed Camarilla Kindred, so she didn't hate her anyway.

The thing about Leona at the moment that attracted Damsel, was that she was facing the darkest corner in the house, sat down and huddled up her trembling body, kept murmuring something again and again.

Creepy. Just like every Tremere. Damsel thought, but she overheard Issac's words and learnt about what happened before Nines' people came, so she still felt bad for Leona.

"Hey, you ok?"

Damsel approached Leona, asking, came closer to bow down and tap her shoulder after getting no response. Then she heard what Leona had been saying:

"Don't look at me…don't look at me, Alice…Don't look at me…don't look at me…"

Leona's mind wasn't really…in the reality. To her, the world now was covered with Alice's eyes: on the wall, on the floor, on the ceiling…everywhere, just in the way they were questioning her, accusing her when she shot Alice dead. So now, all she could do was to hide, and beg them not to look at her.

"Leona…Leona…"

Garrett's voice pierced through her vail of fear and reached her. Leona raised her head and looked, found out it was her Sire squatting down and holding her in his arms. It was like she grasped a thread of light in the ocean of darkness, Leona puled: "Garrett…help me…please…"

"You are having a psychotic episode, Leona, because the guilt is too acute and fierce for you to take in such a short period." Garrett placed his hand on Leona's head, "As your doctor, I can give you some medicine to suppress it and let you get a hold of reality right away, but remember…you will have to digest it afterwards."

"How can I…how can I do that…after...this..."

"You can," Garrett comforted her, with a stream of warm whiteness flowing from his palm into Leona's brain, "Through time…and revenge. Trust me, vengeance can be therapeutic in cases like this."

The warmth from Garrett was reassuring, like a kite lost in windy day was finally grabbed by its owner. The demented fright dissipated in Leona's eyes, and rationality was regaining control in her mind. However, there was something else planted in that rationality, too—a suggestion, from her psychiatrist:

"Turn that guilt into hatred, because hatred is energizing, and it will be the power to keep you climbing up…you know you can't hide anymore. Not after this." And that suggestion was very convincing, "You are remembered by a Sabbat Bishop. There's no way you could run away from that."

So Leona opened her eyes, stood up, faced all the people who were gazing at her in concern about her state of mind. She was back to her old self again, in an astonishing speed:

"We don't have much time left until daylight." She said, "Let's talk on the way."

After saying, Leona walked out of the chalet earlier than everyone else. But her composure wasn't…pure composure, it was armed and weaponized, thus cold and deadly like a necklace being turned into strangling tool.

It was armed with the longing for payback.

Several hours later, the sun rose and shone upon the land, casting all nightly creatures into their caves, and Bishop Bridget barely made her way back to hers before flaming under the light of day—it was a Sabbat stronghold built underground in the north of San Diego, where the Camarilla presence was slightly weaker. Spots like this were hard to find, for right now LaCroix had moved his power center to LA, and traditionally the south and the east were where the Sabbat gathered.

They simply built it because…a place on the front line was needed, to keep a close watch.

Though the entrance on the surface was one ugly, dirty cave hidden in grasses and trees, once she went into the bulkhead door, it would show the true face: a clean and majestic rock fortress, heavily guarded by Sabbat soldiers.

And in front of the gate into the interior, Ulysses was waiting.

"You are late. Reverence Lucia and Reverence Adonis had finished meeting." He said, "What got you delayed?"

Ulysses usually wasn't type who would probe into Bridget's business, but…few things could slow her steps like this.

Bishop Bridget sneered and dropped Alice's corpse on the ground, started complaining: "This piece of shit got me delayed. Fucking Toreador asshole, got sensitive and wasn't willing to let this bitch go, and guess what? She had a Kindred friend who was investigating her whereabouts, a Tremere shit called Leona, and she brought Issac and LaCroix's watchdog into this…"

What Bridget was unable to notice, however, was Ulysses didn't listen to anything she said after the name Leona. The mask helped conceal most of the emotions he was harboring, but his body still quavered for a moment, and that spooked the Lasombra Templars behind him, because to them, their Knight Commander was always…motionless: not brutal or morbid, simply mechanical, a killing machine—a perfect one, though.

"So what did you…do with the Tremere?" Ulysses tried to hold himself and asked.

"That's the worst part: nothing!" Bridget stumped her foot on Alice's body repeatedly, again ignored the strange relief in Ulysses' right eye, "Nines' people fucking found me because that Cainite we picked up on the street! Outsiders! I knew they can't be trusted!"

Looking at the poor Alice, who still needed to suffer postmortem mutilations from the Bishop, Ulysses reclaimed his usual indifference and inquired: "Then why did you bring the body down here to Reverence Adonis? If she was dead before the transformation, she would be no more useful than others to him."

"I'm going to use this stiff." Bridget smiled, out of her sweet, sick indulgence in some fantasy going on in her mind.

Didn't know what to say about her pathology, Ulysses just went directly to his point: "Go see Reverence Adonis then, he will want to hear about this. I will report to Reverence Lucia."

Then he just turned around and demanded the guard to open the door, while Bishop Bridget joked loudly behind his back:

"Sure, sure! Go do the Humbert-and-Lolita kinky play with your Sire…By the way, do you guys videotape the whole thing? You know, porns with underaged girls are very popular among the lowest level of long pigs! I could make a huge amount of money out of that…"

There was only disgust on Ulysses' face when Bridget talked about that.

He proceeded into the grand hall with two arrays of Roman columns standing on the side, walked upstairs, turned right and opened the door into Reverence Lucia's suite. Unlike other parts of the fortress, where simplicity was the core aesthetics, her room was literally decorated like a dollhouse, with laces, bow ties, porcelain dolls and plush toys piled up on the furniture, and everything was in candy-like colors.

Hearing him approaching, a soft, childish voice of a girl acclaimed in excitement: "Ulysses! Come on in! I'm in the bathroom!"

He hesitated, but the girl called out to him afterwards for several times, so he just did what he was told.

The bathroom was decorated in pink-and-white ceramic tiles, with a huge heart-shaped bathtub in the middle and preserved fresh flowers in the corners, whereas Reverence Lucia was still bathing herself…in a whole tub of blood. 

It was all human blood.

Despite the horrifying scene of blood bath, Lucia looked a 14-year-old lass with a marvelous, almost otherworldly beauty—her wavy, light-golden hair was glimmering a nearly silver brightness, her face was more angelic than any doll of her collection, her eyes were violet gems hidden under the eyelashes that would flap like the wings of butterflies, and her skin was snowy and spotless.

This was the kind of beauty…that would start a war and bend the knees of a tyrant.

Ulysses lowered his head and got down on one knee, began to report about the "incidents" happened on Bishop Bridget's path, and Lucia was leaning over the edge of the bathtub, observing him with a infantile curiosity, but he never looked back at him in the process.

So she stood up, naked, flushed all that blood carelessly down into the sewer, knowing that this amount of food could feed several soldiers for a week, and showered herself in water, let the fluid washed away the remaining stains. In the whole process, she didn't shy away her body in front of Ulysses for one bit, while acting with such innocence, as if she was completely unaware of what her deeds could do to usual males. But she knew. Ulysses knew she knew. That was what made her dangerous and even more tempting to men with certain taste.

"Dress me."

She stepped out, humming a joyful melody, while pointing at her lavish princess dress beside the tub and making the request.

Ulysses paused for a while and satisfied her demand. It was not the first time she did this, and she always tried to move around to let the clothes or ribbons fall and expose her skin, making these already troublesome procedures of wearing a complex gown like this even longer.

Until finally, he put the bonnet on Lucia's head and tied it to an appropriate fit.

"I like your mask." Lucia reached out for his wolf face out of the blue, "Did you do this for me?"

That question was so hard to answer, because both yes and no would be…bad for Ulysses. Then he thought of Bishop Bridget's rapid rage when she spoke of Leona, and decided his response:

"Yes."

And Reverence Lucia giggled in happiness upon his reply, sounding like the crisp bells on Christmas tree.


	25. Stages of Grief

On their way back to LA downtown, the two sides of power—Anarchs and the Camarilla—had quite a discussion on the radio, for Nines' people were going in their own RV. Fortunately, Leona was a more Anarch-friendly Cammy, and Mercurio, who knew himself wouldn't be so welcomed like her, cleverly remained polite and cautious in the whole process, so the conversation was mostly smooth…almost amicable.

Based on Nines' saying, Ash Rivers wasn't the only plague-bearer in town: there was another guy who had been spreading this disease in town at the same time, too, mainly on the homeless and sometimes lone pedestrians.

"But I didn't notice him because of the zombie epidemic—on that part, Sabbat actually covered it up pretty well, taking away all infected humans before they caught any attention, and kept the number pretty tight, too." Nines explained, "It was a serial killer. The news called him the Southland Slasher, We were tracking him."

When he mentioned the name, everyone nodded in familiarization, because that Southland Slasher had been all over the news these days: he killed one in New York, one in Vegas, and one in Palm Spring, all victims' ribs were torn open when they were still alive, and their organs were emptied and displayed by their bodies, real brutal.

"That was definitely Kindred's work." Issac was sure of it, "Probably some Cainite who don't know the rules."

Cainite is the word Kindred use to refer to vampires who somehow "fall out of the system"—they usually have no Sire, and definitely no idea about the Kindred society, thus often drift away in ignorance and cause loads of troubles to Masquerade.

"That's what we thought, too. We waited for Camarilla to take some actions first, but then noticed a string of missing homeless on the track of Southland Slasher." Then Nines derided both human and Kindred authorities, "Even the police don't give a damn about them bummers, not to mention the Camarilla, so nobody but us found the connection. We kept trailing, found out a truck that picked up the sick people, followed it up and here we are."

"So what do we do?" After a long silence, Mercurio asked, "What do you think they are planning?"

"According to that Bishop Bitchet, I'd say It was just one of those sick Tzimisce experiments." Jack smoked and breathed it out, then continued in laughter, "Ha, I mean that's what they do, right? Turning themselves and everyone else into fucking Cthulhus."

But Mercurio still had doubts: "After what happened recently, I can't imagine if they are not planning something with it…"

"There's no use guessing. I will report this to the Prince."

Then Leona spoke for the first time since she got in the car, with a proposal that startled everyone that heard it—including Mercurio, who was the ghoul of LaCroix: she had been very close to Anarchs on this case, didn't she worry this would dampen Prince's impression of her…"loyalty"?

And many Anarchs weren't pleased with it, too, among them was Damsel: "Hey! This is our hard work! I won't give it up to fucking LaCroix and let the bureaucrats take credit for it…"

"No, she is right." After a few thoughts, however, Issac offered his support to Leona, "This is something too big for us to worry about, it will have to be handed to someone who has a bigger jurisdiction. It's not just our trouble now."

Soon Nines agreed with Issac also. Damsel still had some grudges, but he just educated her like he was her parent: "If we care that much about taking credits and winning fame, how are we different from Camarilla? Didn't you said you want to save those poor street kids in the best you can? You should learn some reason from Leona."

"Pfff, the fuck do I need to learn from her…"

Damsel was really pissed about Nines using a Cammy, especially Leona, as an example, but she couldn't argue with him on the rest.

"You know better than argue with Nines, Damsel, the one-and-only Nines who could be never be wrong, the incarnation of righteousness…"

Jack stopped his teasing about Damsel, because suddenly, Leona smiled aloud. It was not an ironic or bitter smile in any sense, though, just a pure…affectionate expression.

"What?" Damsel muttered, and the image of her lips wriggling displeased could almost be pictured by her sheer tone.

Leona shook her head: "Nothing, you two just…reminded me of someone."

Her getting out of that distressed mood lighted up the air in the Rolls Royce, and everyone present let out a relieving sigh inwardly. Issac thought of something and took out a diary he hid under his coat, apologized in culpability: "Here, this is the one diary I stole from the police station. The last one mentioned Ash so…I took it away for insurance. Now you should have it."

"Thank you, but…no. Give it back to Alice's family, they need it more than me…but take out the part about Ash."

Leona refused politely. She wouldn't dare to keep anything personal of Alice's beside her, because right now the notion of Alice…had become a nightmare for Leona.

Issac understood and put the diary back: "You are a strong kid…stronger than me, at least. You did the thing I couldn't…shamed my old bones, really."

Everyone returned home safely before sunrise, then the next evening, Leona and Mercurio headed for the LaCroix Group Tower, readied themselves for the report they were about to make. Knowing it was "a political suicide"—as Mercurio put it—Leona still decided it was the best to be honest about everything. A part of her…hoped she would convince everyone in the Kindred world to rain down the justice on those Tzimisce bastards. It was an honesty out of revenge, like Garrett said.

So she told Prince LaCroix everything, waited to accept any reproach in obedience, while the Prince and the Prime Judicator were watching the video records of Ash Rivers' victims from Mercurio, and even after the videos ended, the room was noiseless for a few minutes, as LaCroix sank into contemplation, sometimes looked up at Leona, as if he was…assessing something of hers.

So Leona decided to speak first herself: "I understand that I overstepped the boundaries, Prince LaCroix, I'm ready for any punishment…"

"Why would I punish you?" The Prince stood up from behind his desk, and laughed, "If you are not loyal, you wouldn't be here at all. I won't punish people for telling me the truth.

"In fact, I'm fairly impressed about how you deal with the event. For the past two months I've been watching you work, and you occupied yourself with jobs of fundamental levels—I wouldn't say it's bad, for it helped you get a hold of how our society functions, but taking that into consideration, what you showed in your work on this case was an even rarer gift: It was your first time in action, and you made the right decision, used your hunch well, handled Issac appropriately, and most importantly, when the situation escalated, you didn't take on a personal revenge, instead, you informed the Camarilla and warned the public about the danger.

"What can I say? I can't expect more from a Neonate so young like you. Had you taken note of the lead we put in the system and follow it up in the official record, I would reward you accordingly…"

Leona widened her eyes: "We have a lead in the system already?"

"We have the one about investigating Ash Rivers." Veronica explained and showed Leona the website about it on her laptop, "Ever since he disappeared like that we have had suspicion about him, and listed it in the system to reward any Kindred who can offer useful info. It's one of the hottest lead on there, really, because Ash was one real celebrity."

Veronica pitied Leona's loss of a great opportunity. Leona regretted it, too…but not for the reward or the stepstone to climb up in the Camarilla.

She regretted it, because if she hadn't been keeping her head down and ignoring anything that could expose herself…if she hadn't been obsessed with self-preservation, she would have seen it earlier, and at least…not to say she could stop Ash before he came to Alice, she could find a way to warn her about him.

And now it was just all wasted…both her effort of keeping a low profile, and saving Alice. What a loser she was.

"You've tried your best to save your friend, don't blame yourself for that." Observing the remorse clouding on Leona's face, Prince LaCroix suspired and offered a simple comfort, "But I hope after this you do realize one thing: there's no…'clean' way of living without getting your hands dirty, not in our world."

Indeed.

"I understand now, Prince LaCroix. It won't happen again, I will make sure of that."

Her voice, calm and light on the surface, where something indomitable was lurking underneath, and that somewhat…delighted LaCroix. He offered her a rarely-seen, complimenting smile and nodded: "Good. I will summon the Regents and Judicators for a meeting to make the decision, now that it is a grave matter about Sabbat. Before that, you should get rest…and prepared: I might need your assistance on this."


	26. Drunken Crybaby

Leona bowed slightly and left, while LaCroix had an exchange of looks with Mercurio and let him leave. After them closing the door, Veronica raised her question in a worried expression:

"Do you need me to take the lead on this? It sounds…quite dangerous."

"No, if you are distracted from the sarcophagus, that will be exactly what Sabbat want by doing this…no, you just…keep working with Beckett, watch over the excavation and make sure those humans won't suspect anything…"

Veronica smiled wryly, seemed couldn't understand his obsession with this project: "I don't understand why everyone is so nervous about it…they are just myths and stories, right? An old superstition…"

"But you feel it, too, don't you? That kind of…disturbance in the air."

Unable to disagree, Veronica didn't respond further, stroked Sebastian's face gently with her hand, as if trying to convince him in a sensational way instead of using logic, so Sebastian kissed her hand and consoled her:

"Don't worry, I'm just…making sure nothing will go wrong."

At the same time, Leona made a strange request to Mercurio when they got off the elevator and back on the parking lot. "Do you have…strong alcohol stuff in your place?" She asked, "Like…strong enough to get a vampire down?"

Having a bad feeling about why she asked, Mercurio hesitated and answered: "Plenty in my basement. What?"

"Can I have a drink at your place? Just…you know we vampires are more tolerant about alcohol so…if I have to pay at the bar to get drunk, I can't afford it right now…I'm just a blood van driver, I don't really have that income…" Feeling pathetic about the fact that she didn't have the money to do this because of her cowardly choice of career, Leona laughed at herself, "Gosh, it's stupid. Forget about…"

"It's ok." Mercurio said yes—it's not like he's a professional wine collector who does it for investment, "But just so you know, I'm planning to call a girl and relax tonight, so you will have to stay in the basement, alright? I need some…pressure-relieving after this, too."

"Deal, I intend to be alone, anyway." Leona squeezed out a smile, "Thank you for…everything."

So they split their way after arriving at Mercurio's villa, and Leona indeed behaved herself, stayed underground, drinking, allowing the ghoul to enjoy his crazy night with the lady uninterrupted, without the likes of that embarrassing incident at the first time they met. Still, after a few failed attempts of trying to force himself asleep, Mercurio put up his shirt and trousers and got up to work, unwillingly.

He made a video call to someone at Chicago, got some files faxed about two individuals over there: one was the social worker who picked up Leona on the street and took her into the orphanage, and the other was the…philanthropist who sponsored her in high school and college. He got the names of these two people over his stay in that city.

The social worker was an old lady who passed away two years ago, seemed pretty clean and ordinary—Leona attended her funeral, actually—so he quickly put her document away; the entrepreneur who kindly donated his money to Leona, however, was more tricky.

He looked all legitimate at first glance, but when Mercurio double-checked the financial status of his company—a pharmacy chain—something shady came up: it was a money laundry place. Though they covered it quite professionally, Mercurio himself rose from criminal organizations, so he saw through it anyway.

So…was it just a coincidence? A crime boss found his heart once in his life and…gave a helping hand to an strange, orphan girl who had been missing for two years?

But with this bit of superficial info, Mercurio couldn't infer too much, and…he didn't really want to. This poor chick's life was hard enough, and she seemed not the conspiring type…

"Mercury…Mer-cu-ry…"

And there Leona was, pounding on his front door, totally befuddled, murmuring in a little girl's voice, so groggy that she mistook his name for some stupid Roman god. Mercurio quickly put away all the files and rushed to open the door: "Shush! Somebody is asleep upstairs…"

Upon his warning, Leona put her index finger on her mouth and shook her head greatly up and down like her neck was a spring. She smelt of Vodka.

"God…how much did you drink…"

Probably because Mercurio warned her to be quiet, Leona snuck in furtively like some funny thief in a comedy cartoon, then whispered to his ear: "E-ve-ry-thing."

Then she put up a silly smirk on her face and sat down in the living room, dragged Mercurio's trousers with one hand and tapped on the sofa cushion by her side with another, inviting him to sit here and grumbled: "Ahhh…I don't get why anyone would want to even become vampires in the first place, if there's an option of being ghoul, you know? You guys can live the life soooooo much easier than us…"

Mercurio chuckled lightly. He wanted to correct Leona's saying, because not every ghoul lived so…handsomely with dignity like him: most of them are walking blood bags, cheap labors and servants of dirty work to their masters, some are even pets and sex slaves. But he knew Leona wasn't here to learn and debate—not this Leona, at least—and looking at her dumping away all the coolness she tried so hard to put on like now somehow amused him, so he just went with her opinion: "I know, right? You guys are really messed up."

"So…" And Leona suddenly changed the subject, "You spent your time with your girl already?"

Mercurio was literally astonished by this question. He turned around and looked at her, like he was making sure it was the Leona he knew, the very-serious-about-adult-topics, always-accusing-him-of-toying-with-women Leona, and replied: "Umm…yes?"

He didn't know why he felt so…"shy" right now, considering he was usually the one who kept flirting with her "improperly".

"How was it? Was it good?"

"Erm…yeah, I think so…right…Leona, I think you should…"

"I can never understand why you westerners are so big about sex. You said it's…what, stress-relieving? Maybe it's because I've never had it. Well, you can't understand something you've never experienced, can you?" After making this really precocious confession, Leona paused for a second and seemingly an idea had come up in her mind, "You are supposed to be really good at it, right? Since you are very…experienced…"

"…Uh, well, Uh…Listen, Leona, you are drunk—"

"Then you teach me, so I can learn from the best."

Leona suddenly flipped around and sat on Mercurio's laps, with her thighs right open to him, then started to unbutton her shirt disorderly, since she couldn't really control her fingers in a precise fashion right now.

"Shit…wait, wait, Leona, wait!"

"Don't worry, I'm unskilled but…well, I'm a virgin so I'm very tight, you guys like it, right? That should make it up…"

"That's not the problem…"

"Then why! You are the one who said I looked like your secretary in the secretary play!" Leona struck him on his chest, desolate again like a teenage girl who got turned down publicly on her prom, "Why! Do you think I'm ugly?"

"No, no no no, I…"

Mercurio lost his words. He didn't understand himself, too. Before he never said no to a girl who…took such an initiative, and he was never picky about women. He liked all types of them, really, at least in bed. Apart from that, Leona wasn't ugly at all; actually, the way she looked at him right now, the way her shirt was half-opened just enough to let him take a glimpse at her breasts, her posture, her voice…would have all worked perfectly on him.

But he just couldn't do it. He saw her eyes swelled, her mascara smudged, and dried trails of tears on her face. Then, all he could think about was how long she had cried when he could escape from everything in that woman's coquettish moaning upstairs. 

Men of his background from his world—a world of drug dealings, cartel fights and gun trafficking, always tend to view women to be something fragile and…decorative, something to have an affair with and boost about, and at best, a princess in the castle that needs defending; even those strong, socially-acknowledged women won't qualify in their standard, because with all their educations, they get too…arrogant and obsessed with ethics and will crush easily once faced with a moral dilemma. They are only strong under the sunlight, in a place where justice holds some authority.

Yet right now, Mercurio felt ashamed…strangely enough in front of Leona, when she was acting like a emotional crybaby. He suddenly realized how high the wall of defense she put on to confront everything she had been through, and compared to that he didn't even give a good fight…against whatever it was in his past.

"Listen, Leona, I can't do this, because you don't really want to…"

Just when Mercurio determined about his response, he stopped, for Leona fell on his shoulder and slept already—she was worn out, and Mercurio hadn't reacted to her for too long.

"...Alice…why do you…smell like alcohol again…are you drunk…"

Leona griped, then went into a deep and sweet slumber. She purred when she slept, like a cat enjoying the petting of its human companion. Mercurio grinned, helped her tidied up her clothes and carried her back into the basement, then went back to bed himself. Luckily for both of them, when Leona woke up next evening, her mind was solely troubled by the painful hangover and didn't remember a thing.


	27. Por Una Cabeza (1)

By then Mercurio wasn't Mercurio. He was Michele Napolitano, and people used to call him "Il Principe di Napoli" back in 1985, when he was a fine, good-looking ragazzo at the age of 23, because everyone in Naples knew that he was the one who would inherit the…family business his father—the respectable Franco Napolitano built up. The Napolitano, at that time, was the strongest of all Camorra clans, and it was a great deed to achieve, considering how the clans were always more eager to slit each other's throat. Unlike the Sicilians, their organization was always very…horizontal.

His father, old Franco, had harbored some worries about Michele taking over the family business though. He had only this one son and one adopted daughter, and his beloved wife died young, but Michele was always more of a vocalist who indulged himself in the dream of performing in the greatest opera halls, rather a grown, mature man who could take up responsibility and make hard decisions, and his daughter, Olivia, who was la più grande bellezza of the entire Campania and he loved with all his heart, had now become the heaviest burden on his mind, because everybody knew that the two young people under his wings adored each other. Too fiercely.

Of course Michele and Olivia never had any affair or disgraceful, over-intimate interactions—even though outsiders had doubts or rumors, old Franco had the confidence about the purity of their relationship, for his son completely learnt his old-fashioned opinions about marriage and sex, and would never disrespect Olivia that way. Still, he knew what people said these days: even when you covered their mouth, love would be given away by the eyes.

And that was the problem. Hurting his son and daughter was the least thing Franco wanted to do in the world—he granted Michele's wish and sent him to Venice to learn singing, when he should let Michele stay at his side, watch and learn the way to do things. but even though Olivia was adopted and she was not related with Michele, their attachment was still too improper. Apart from that, Olivia's beauty had attracted many admirers, among whom there was one particular candidate Franco was supportive of.

It was Paulo Bellini, the head of another Camorra clan, which could be arguably viewed as the second strongest one. This young lad, Paulo, was to some degree the exact opposite of Michele Napolitano: he grew up to be the unwelcomed bastard in the family, but during the feud of Bellini family with another clan, he was the only offspring survived and worked his way hard to the top. He was a sensible, clever man in the business, and had the resilience few people of his generation possessed, but was also famous for his…playful way with women, a typical predator, some would say, a predator that would definitely not let go of a princess in the castle so high and noble like Olivia.

In fact, Franco had already said yes to Paulo's proposal on Olivia's behalf, but of course under the condition that he promised to stay loyal and loving to his future wife. The reasons why he did so were quite obvious: first to find a promising ally, and more importantly, to end those shameful rumors before Michele stepped up—his son was definitely unable to manage the family, if his soldiers could remember nothing about him but his affair with his adopted sister.

Certainly he encountered the strongest oppose from Michele and Olivia. They hadn't talked to him for days, and the family dinner had sunk into an embarrassing silence for a week. Their house was the most glamorous mansion with the most amazing view of Naples city and the coastlines in the Vomero Hills, and it was usually filled with laughter of friends and families, but now there was this strange tension in their lovely floral backyard, as Paulo Bellini was paying Boss Franco a visit, already discussing the details of his marriage with Olivia.

The bride-to-be wasn't here, however, shutting herself in her own room all the time, and Franco wasn't really pleased with that. Yes, Paulo wasn't platonic and romantic like Michele and was a flirtatious dandy, but most young guys at this age were like that, and Franco had seen many of them changed after having a family and a child. She should at least take a chance to know him, or it could only get worse afterwards.

"Michele, get Olivia down here." So Franco told his son, who was sitting beside him, tolerating this conversation with Paulo in silence, "She should spend more time with her fiancée."

Paulo looked at Michele with ridiculing eyes, raising his eyebrows as an implicit announcement of his victory, but Michele forced himself to ignore it and just walked away. He went back into the house and upstairs, knocked on Olivia's door, but she didn't respond.

"It's me." 

So he spoke, then Olivia unlocked her door to let him. Even when she was in sorrow and didn't pay much attention to her appearance, she still looked so beautiful and ethereal, as if she had never touched anything mundane and worldly since she was ever born: her skin was flawless and her hair was dark brown smooth with huge waves all the way down to her ankle, shining a wheat-colored glow under the warm light, whereas her eyes were light, silver blue almost like ice, and Michele could see himself in there like he was facing the glaciers unpolluted by human presence.

Who wouldn't fall in love when being looked at by eyes like those.

"Has papa said anything?" She asked, pouted her naturally pink lips in the cupid-bow shape.

"The wedding will be in next month." But Michele would definitely have to disappoint her, "There's no…changing that is possible."

"I can't do this…That man is so…vulgar. I hear things about him."

"Just give him a chance, Olivia, he wouldn't dare to do anything to you, knowing who you are, because he knows we care about you, papa cares about you…"

Michele used the same reasons his father used to convince her…and himself, but that clearly wouldn't waver Olivia. She just suddenly stood up from the bedside and walked towards Michele, grabbed his hands to stop him from stepping back:

"If he truly cares about me, about us, he should respect what we want!"

But the room was then drowned into a suffocating quietness, because even themselves knew that was too hard to realize.

"I'm your brother, Olivia…"

"I don't care, we can run away…"

"We can't do that to Papa!" Michele immediately cut off this crazy thought, "If we are gone, who he has left? Mamma was dead years ago, we are the only families he have, we can't do this to him! Please, Olivia…"

But he was pushed out of the room and slammed outside by the door, couldn't finish his sentence, then a few minutes later, Olivia came out all dressed up, ignored him and rushed downstairs, took a few deep breaths to put up a weak smile, trying to greet her future husband politely. Lucky for her, perhaps, Paulo was just about to leave, so she only needed to entertain a few words and allowed him to kiss her goodbye on the cheek.

Then after the guest left, Olivia glimpsed at Michele before she went past old Franco and into the garden. It was within just an instant, but the despair and disappointment she placed on his shoulder with that look was unbearable—the princess was blaming her knight for not standing out and protecting her, when she was about to be taken by the dragon.

It was just too unfair for him. Michele couldn't help but feel like so, stuck between two sides, both he loved and he didn't want to hurt. Feeling so troubled, Michele escaped to town at night and drank in a bar, alone. It was a very vintage bar that played songs by greatest Italian vocalists like Frank Sinatra, and the only place he could get away with the bloody, dirty family business to simply enjoy the music—the greatest passion of his life.

He hoped he was able to travel to America and became a professional that sold records, He hoped he could be with Olivia just like normal husband and wife, he hoped mamma didn't die so early and papa would still have a complete family, he hoped…he wasn't born in such a lineage in the first place.

But Michele knew, this was just wishful thinking.

"Così è la vita…" Michele laughed at himself and finished the drink, just preparing to take off, swallow all these pains down the throat and get back to life, a young lady suddenly approached him and sat on the side, smiled and persuaded him to stay:

"Why in such a sadness, Signore Napolitano? Something on your mind?"

It was a woman with black, short and curvy hair and pale, ivory skin. She wasn't really very pretty per say, but there was this strange…enchantment in her eyes that actually made him do what she told him to. Michele shook his head, tried to get himself back to the state where he could think sanely and asked:

"How do you know me? And who are you?"

The woman chuckled and replied: "You are famous, Il Principe di Napoli, and I know this is where you frequent when you are…stressed. As for me, well, I'm no one, but you can call me Mira."

"There's no such thing as no one in this world. Are you from one of the other clans? You want to talk business?" Michele was impatient, "If you want something, talk to my father, I'm not the one who's making the decisions yet…"

"No, Michele, I'm not from any clan…any clan in your world, at least." The mysterious woman put her hand on Michele's and comforted him, "I don't want anything but to help you…to get freedom."


	28. Por Una Cabeza (2)

Though it was the first time Michele had ever met this Mira, he found her astonishingly…trustworthy. It was not like he had a crush on her, but meeting an old friend he had known for years who he could tell anything to. After a few drinks, he already spilled everything on his mind, and it felt…surprisingly good, to lash out all the emotions that he had to suppress in front of everyone.

"I guess it is the sad fact of human society. You create rules to civilize yourselves and become the slaves of them." After listening to all the drunk complaints of Michele, Mira smiled in sympathy and made a comment.

Which made Michele laughed: "You are saying this as if you are not human."

Mira skipped the question without admitting or denying it, simply stood up and paid for the drink, then said: "Come with me, I want to show you something."

And it worked like magic, that Michele really just followed Mira into her car, who he hadn't known for more than two hours, letting her take him wherever she wanted to take him. Now as he woke up from the effects of alcohol, Michele started to slightly regret his decision, but Mira kept herself away from him at a proper distance, and she didn't seem to drug him or threaten him with any force, so that kept him less panicked.

The other reason that he didn't jump out of this vehicle right away, was the destination of their little trip—a seemingly ordinary bungalow by the sea, but Michele knew what this place was: the "pleasure house" of Paulo Bellini. Through the French window of that house even from afar, Michele could see how Paulo and his buddies were "partying" with a bunch of good-time girls wearing cheap teasing costumes, and to even make him more agitated, the driver of Mira's car turned on the radio and had him hear what those men were talking about in the room:

"You are fucking crazy doing this, Paulo, you are marrying the Napolitano girl next month and you are still fucking other women! Wait until their boss find this out…"

"It's fine, Franco understands that I need to extra enjoy my life before I go to the prison of marriage…"

"Prison? Fuck that, your wife is la gioiella della corona di Napoli!"

"I'm happy to die if I get to be in your prison for just one day…Wait, did that Napolitano boy touch her yet?"

"Nah I get to pop the cherry. Tsk, that Michele is like some kid who lives in the fairytale. Poor old Franco, don't know who he's going to get his son back on the track…"

Michele was about to dash out of the car, but held down by Mira immediately—and somehow, he just forgot about how weird it was for Mira to tap on Paulo and deliberately take him here to witness everything, maybe out of the pure rage on his mind…or something else. But what he could remember, firmly as if it was carved in his bones, was the conversation that happened next.

"Calm down, there's no benefit you could achieve by breaking in and being beaten." Mira grabbed his arm and said.

"I can't believe papa sold Olivia to a…bastard like this…"

"Then it's you who should step up and protect her!" Mira looked right into Michele's eyes and convinced him, "You cannot rely on your padre, you know business always comes first for him."

Michele was startled by the notion Mira was planting in his head. His body began to quaver, as if resisting it out of instinct: "What…what do you mean…"

"There will be a ship to Marseille waiting for you and Olivia at the port tomorrow morning at 5 a.m., everything you need is in there, including the new credentials, cash and plane tickets to America, just be at the place in time…"

"But I can't just leave…"

"Think about it, Michele, this is maybe the only chance in your life to live a future that you want! Don't you see? New identities and you don't have to be responsible for anything from your bloodlines, you two can be free to realize your dream, build a family of your own, and by then you can return to your padre as a happy, independent man. He won't get mad at you by then—if you both are enjoying the life, why would he? Isn't that what he always wanted?" Mira painted a bright picture in his mind with a moving voice, "Think about it, Michele, this is your life, you should make the choice for yourself."

As they were talking, the car drove back into the Vomero Hills. Mira dropped Michele somewhere near the Napolitano mansion, leaving him wander his way home like a puppet possessed by a lost soul. Watching him blend into the night like a small drop into the ocean, the man wearing sunglasses on the driver seat sighed:

"It's so cold-hearted to manipulate a young boy like that, Mira, even for you."

Mira smiled, taking a bottle out of the drawer under the seat and poured out a glass of dense, red liquid: 

"Tutto è lecito…in amore e in guerra."

The sun rose just as usual, and Franco woke up immediately as the morning light shone into his bedroom. He lived a healthy life and cared for himself a lot after his wife died of illness, determined to be physically strong enough to care for the family, so he didn't look like a man that was in his 50s at all, and many much younger women were specially attracted to him, even though he had decided to remain widowed.

Just when he put up the sports clothes and got ready for his morning jogging, the housekeeper knocked on his door hurriedly, and the fright on his face really unnerved the old Franco.

"What's the matter?"

Franco asked the poor old man who had served him faithfully all these years, but the housekeeper was simply too shocked to even speak proper words, merely pointing at the direction of Michele and Olivia's rooms, and when Franco walked there and looked inside, he immediately realized what happened.

Both rooms were empty.

As for the young people who ran away, the consequences of their action didn't concern them—Michele totally forgot about his encounter with Mira and thought it was his own idea, while Olivia was just too thrilled about the new life with Michele to worry anything. Youth and love blinded everything and added a filter to their sight.

So they travelled far, far away across the Atlantic to the United States, arrived at the famous New York city and settled down in la Piccola Italia in Lower Manhattan. They rented a small flat on Mulberry Street, got acquainted with the neighbors and began searching for a way to earn an honest living, just like every young immigrant in the neighborhood. A month after they moved in, la Festa di San Gennaro started, and they even received the donations from people of good heart while having a crazy, great celebration. Olivia tasted beer for the first time in her life.

Then Michele found a job working in one of those theatres in Lincoln Center, and Olivia also started trying to sell her paintings to some small galleries. What Michele did was mainly chores like setting the stage and cleaning the props, but occasionally when needed he still got to sing some parts in the shows, and sometimes he even received appreciation from the audience.

"I met a very rich couple who watched our show today—Mr. and Mrs. LaCroix, I think they are called." Michele was cooking Gnocchi in the kitchen and sharing this news with Olivia, "They said my performance was excellent, too classic for Broadway shows. I even got their business card, they say they might need people like me in the opera house they are building right now…"

"And I have good news for you, too."

Olivia walked close, waving an invoice like an exciting child—it was from the gallery. She just sold her first painting.

Life would be perfect if it just kept on going like this, even though it was tough. But Michele hardly saw any progress in his career, while Olivia's paintings hadn't sold even one more ever since; the refreshing feeling of living in a new country wore out pretty soon, whereas the tiredness about their poverty and repeating frustrations was growing with each passing day. 

It was not what Olivia expected at all when she ran away with Michele. She was the center of the universe at home, and even she was just out to take a walk there would suitors following behind, calling her bella. But here she was no one but a normal housewife who had to do the dirty housework that used to get done by servants, and her beauty was more of a trouble than a blessing, not to mention it was slowly diminishing because lack of care: she got lewd teases from men on streets, and sometimes the gallery owners would even indicate that she could have some chances by making…dirty deals.

And this dream-like blueprint of freedom and future they had in mind started to fall apart. Complaints filled the room, and there were quarrels about almost every aspect in their life, either Olivia bought luxuries and overspent the money on clothes or accessories, or Michele failed to get promoted because he was simply too proud to learn the "popular way" of performing. Love faded away pretty easily, when they had debts to repay and things broken here and there in the house.

Until one day Michele got back home from work, he was greeted by a hit from behind and knocked out into unconsciousness—the Bellinis found him…or to be precise, Olivia led them to find him.


	29. Follow up on this work

Hi, this is the author. Stopped updating the work because college has been super demanding since last summer and right now thanks to coronavirus the campus is shutdown and I have time again :D

Just deleted almost all chapters after Ash River case (chpt 26) because personally I'm not really satisfied with how they turned out, so will try to edit the old chapters then start from there. Shouldn't be too big changes from chpt 01 - 26.

Hopefully I can get the grooves back and you guys stay strong.


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